For the Sake of the Ringbearer
by Meddwl
Summary: AU- A "what if" scenario in which Aragorn and Gimli hunt urk-hai while Legolas follows Frodo and Sam. How would the fate of Middle Earth be changed by the choices of one elf? Will the hobbits trust again after the betrayal of Boromir? How will a wood-elf survive in Mordor?
1. Chapter 1 - The Search for Sam and Frodo

Disclaimer: I am not a professor or a philologist or a member of the _Inklings_. Alas, I have never been to England nor was I born in South Africa. So apart from a love of beauty and an admiration for Old English and medieval stories I have nothing in common with the writer of The Lord of the Rings. Ergo, any recognizable characters are his not mine. I but vainly hope to add a few threads in the great tapestry of Middle Earth.

Warnings: This story is AU, since it is a "what if scenario." I wondered what would have happened if one of the three hunters had chosen to follow Frodo and Sam and this story is my answer to that. Furthermore, while I do not like gratuitous violence this story contains some graphic imagery. If you dislike blood, sweat and tears…this is probably not the story for you. If you like stories that contain such material for the purpose of showing up the courage and hope of the characters despite all odds then read on…

* * *

Chapter 1 – The Search for Sam and Frodo

Three grey-cloaked figures stood against the setting sun looking sorrowfully down upon the golden foam that rose about the falls, the last traces of their song lingering on wind. For here at the last the Fellowship had been broken. Even the fall of Gandalf in Moria had not splintered this last hope of Middle Earth the way that the death of the man of Gondor had. For though he had given his life in defense of the hobbits and paid his debt still his fall to the power of the ring had riven the company as the death of their leader had not. Aragorn looked wearily at his companions.

"Now we must abide the choices we have made" he said mournfully "and may they not be as ill-chosen as the others."

Legolas looked at him, noting such weariness as he had never seen in all his years of friendship with the man. "Nay" he said softly "Never were our choices in vain, there is a greater purpose in the weft and warp of all that has passed. I know not what it shall be, yet in my heart I know that it is so regardless of what our waking minds would have us believe, we will yet defeat the shadow."

From where he stood Gimli glowered a little at the elf's words. For though he honored him and had grown to love him like a brother, still he found the workings of elvish minds at times strange and unsettling. Still he took comfort in the elf's words and even more in his spirit and looking on Aragorn he saw that the man did as well, for some of his weariness left him and his face became less shadowed at the touch of the Eldar. "Then let us take the ways that need choosing and tarry in this accursed place no longer." he called, his strong voice bringing his companions out of the grip of their memories.

"Then it is here we part at last" said Aragorn "For I would not see any of the little ones without a protector." Legolas nodded "It would be better if I followed Sam and Frodo" he stated calmly "for you are better known to the horse lords and their path may lead where only an elf may follow." He turned to Gimli "Farewell, mellon nin until we meet again, for my heart foretells that our fates are yet wound together though the shadow lies between us." Gimli said nothing, cursing the emotion that held his tongue as he gripped the forearm of the elf he called friend.

Legolas turned to Aragorn embracing him warmly "Namarie" he said softly "There is hope yet Estel o Dunedain, Boramir was a great warrior and a good man, but his path does not shadow yours, do not take his fall to heart." Aragorn looked at him amazed "You know of what befell between him and Frodo?" The elf nodded "Gar-estel" he called and turning he leapt lightly into the boat that remained and paddled swiftly towards the eastern shore.

The man and the dwarf watched as his woodland clothing faded into the trees. Then they turned their faces towards the wide plains of Rohan and their captured friends, whispering prayers for those they sought and those that were left behind.

* * *

Legolas sang softly under his breath bending all his concentration to following the tracks of the two hobbits. Their footsteps were light, and skilled tracker that he was he doubted not that he would have lost the trail more than once without the aid of the trees, with their help he continued tirelessly even as the sun sank in the west. Looking back in after years upon those days of pursuit he could remember little for all his elven memory. For he had a late start and the darkness of Mordor pressed heavily upon his spirit, clouding his thoughts, and even though a trees helped, he was yet a greenleaf among the bare winter of the trees and little was the solace that they could offer. And yet though no oath bound him his heart was sworn to aid the halfling in his task though the Nine should bar the way.

His heart sank in spite of himself though, as the tree line gave way to the bleak crags of Emyn Muil and still he had not seen those he sought. He prayed that no evil fate had found them before he could offer his aid. As evening neared on the third day of his pursuit a great storm rose and the chill wind and rain buffeted him as he stood looking down upon the shadowed lands and the sickly green of the Dead Marshes. He shuddered at the faint scent of decay the wind brought him. He did not fear their evil for the shades of men and elves had no hold on his soul but wood-elf that he was he dreaded the decay and the mockery of all that he loved that the enemy had wrought upon them.

His thoughts turned upon these things and the ill-fate that had brought him, a prince of the Woodland Realm to seek passage into the land of he who had defiled the Greenwood and hated the wood-elves and especially the royal house nigh as much as the remnants of Numenor. He held no illusions about the fate that awaited him should he be captured in the land of shadow. There would be no merciful death, and his torment would hardly be less than that of the Ringbearer or the heir of Gondor for he had led the wood elves for centuries in their fight as commander of the archers and prince of the realm and now he aided the Ringbearer.

His dark thoughts broke off as he heard a cry upon the wind. At last it seemed that he found what he sought. "Mr. Frodo" came the call, faint and full of distress and fear. Legolas recognized Sam's call and leapt quickly towards it. He reached the place as they both stood alive and whole upon the bare rock below. He whispered a pray of thanks to the lady of the stars and undid the elven rope, letting it fall below, lest some enemy find it and thus follow their trail. For him there was another path, and he quickly lowered his body against the cliff face seeking what footholds he could. He could hear Frodo teasing Sam about his knots and he laughed softly at having been the cause the mystery. He hoped that they would not notice him until he could speak to them and assuage their fears of betrayal.

His luck held until about twenty feet from the bottom he heard fearful whispering. He felt an urge to bang his head against the rock, he could only hope that they would not be too frightened when he landed before them. And with that hope he leapt to the ground, his legs bent to absorb the impact. He landed softly and found himself looking down at the sharp edge of Frodo's elven blade while Sam leapt on him from behind.


	2. Chapter 2 - A Friendship Renewed

Chapter 2 – A Friendship Renewed and Tale of the Greenwood

Legolas smiled slightly, this was a fine predicament for him to find himself in indeed, the warrior prince of the greenwood being slain in fear by two savage halflings whom he had come to aid. He held his hands aloft in a gesture of peace and said softly "_Sidh_, little ones, I am not the enemy nor do I seek that which you carry, I come only to protect you and your burden." Frodo started and Sam rose quickly from where he sat on the intruder's chest.

"I...I…I am s…sorry M…Mister Legolas" he stuttered abashed "I thought you was one of those black men come to take the ring."  
"Peace, Sam, you did well to protect your master, but do not speak of what he carries even to me." came the calm reply. Legolas looked at where Frodo stood Sting still held loosely in his hand. "I have sought you for three days" he continued "for we feared that you would need my aid before the end." Frodo held his peace still, unsure after the horror of Boromir's betrayal. Legolas read his fear and uncertainty and unsheathing his knives, he knelt on one knee holding them point down in front of the halfling and looked him in the eye.

"I know what it is that you fear" he said softly "but I am not here to take it, I would aid you in destroying it if you will have me." Frodo returned his gaze as Legolas flung down the barriers that guarded his ancient eyes. The depth he saw swept him away. All the emotion and passion that the elf kept carefully buried was laid bare before him and he marveled at the trust and humility of this ageless being who had granted him this sight to strengthen his failing trust. And as he thought he saw a depth of love for Sam and himself and the will to die if need be to gain their goal. He breathed gently and broke the eye contact resheathing Sting, "I trust you" he whispered. Legolas looked down at the proffered knives.

"Before we left Rivendell" he said quietly "we took no oath as to how long we should remain with you. Now I give you my oath as Legolas Thranduilion and Prince of the Greenwood upon the stars of Elbereth, I will follow and guard you to the end of this task. In that duty I offer my life and freedom if need be for you to gain your goal." And bowing his proud head he placed the knives in Frodo's hands. Frodo was speechless, he had always admired the elf seeing the wisdom and courage as well the merry laughter and joy that the elf had shown. And he had been awed to learn that he was the last elven prince that remained in Arda, but nothing had prepared him for the nobility and courage of the gesture. He felt stunned by the majesty and weight of what Legolas was offering and for moment he was tempted to reject it.

Legolas knelt patiently, giving the halfling his time, for he did not swear or accept oaths lightly. Then Frodo stirred and returned the long white knives hilt up and bowed accepting the oath. Sam stood on the side agape at the sudden transformation of this quiet companion whose strength and power he had never fully appreciated. Legolas stood, sheathing the knives and listening to the wind. His sharpened senses caught a whisper of a presence and hot anger flared in him for a heartbeat. He turned to the hobbits and whispered "We are being followed by Gollum."

Sam looked up fearfully at the rough wall. "There is no rope, he won't be able to get down."  
Legolas smiled at him. "Samwise, where I can find a path so also can Gollum. He will follow. I judge it best that we should take him, for he will less trouble should we know where he is."  
Frodo nodded. "Good, then I will take him for we have had some acquaintance in the past. Conceal yourselves quickly, he is drawing near."

The hobbits shrank back, glad to the leave the matter in the hands of the elf who they suddenly and belatedly realized was an experienced leader as well as warrior. Throughout their earlier travels he had held back, giving his opinion only when it was asked for and deferring to Gandalf and Aragorn. Now they began to wonder why such an experienced and undeniable wise elf should be so hesitant to take command. Frodo wondered but kept his peace while Sam resolved to ask at the first chance. He had missed the light laughter and song of the elf and he rejoiced that they were once again in company.

A dark shape began scrabbling down the cliff face while below three silent shapes watched with disgust. Legolas' ears caught the sound of his mumbling and hissing before the others his fair face hardened, his eyes so often gentle and kindly became pools of grey-green flame. For he had counseled that Gollum should be given a chance amid the light and the trees. Not only had the creature rejected all attempts to bring him back to the light but many a merry elf and friend had died in the skirmish. He had told no one of his desperate attempt to rescue those who had been taken and his own ensuing capture and eventual escape. Still he found some measure of pity for the creature and so he stayed his anger and heartache and waited.

The miserable shape stopped splayed against the cliff face and then lost its hold dropping spider-like to the ground. Legolas was upon him in a flash, perhaps if Gollum had found the hobbits alone he would have had a chance, but against the elven prince he had none. He found himself staring into terribly bright eyes with a long white knife at his throat and his body went limp.

"Don't kill usssss master elvessss" he hissed "we meansss no harm." Legolas lifted him on his shaking limbs not ungently and stood up, tall and fair under the light of the stars. "What of the elves that you helped to kill and capture? What of the torments that they suffered? We gave you mercy and you repaid us with death and torture." he said sternly. Gollum made no response but lay there whimpering under the gaze of those eyes while the hobbits watched dumbstruck from where they had moved from concealment.

As the tormented creature watched he saw a flash of old pain in this terrifying elf's eyes and pity as he had when the prince had tried to redeem him. For a moment he wrenched himself from the pressure of the ring and saw understanding, this bright creature had also seen torment and agony. "They captured you. Smeagol saw them, orcssss with sharp bladesssss." he whimpered "we didn't do it, we didn't mean it, we hatessss them, aye we cursessss…"

"Enough" Legolas cut in hearing horrified gasps from the hobbits. He had no idea that Gollum had seen that and he had no intention of let Sam and Frodo hear about it; it was bad enough that they were going to Mordor without reminders of what would happen if they should fall.  
Swiftly, he wrapped the creature in rope, luckily not elven made for he remembered how the creature had screamed at it in Mirkwood. He motioned Frodo and Sam forward. "It is safe now" he said finding it hard to meet their questioning gazes. Ai, he would have to tell them something, a thought struck, they were hobbits after all. "I think that we have waited long enough for dinner dear friends" he tried in a causal tone. Both hobbits brightened considerably but they also gave him a look that meant that they had seen right through the transparent distraction.

"Legolas" said Frodo looking up from the dried fruit and meat that they were eating "you aren't telling us something. What did Gollum mean?"

"Yes" broke in Sam "you weren't captured by _orcs_ were you?" Legolas looked at him "Aye" he began gently "I was, but it was not so terrible, I have lived through much worse." _what in the name of the stars possessed me to say that?_ "I escaped quite quickly actually" he said aloud.  
"How long?" asked Frodo

"Several days" he said lightly.  
"Several days!" gasped Sam "but they hate elves, leastways in the old stories. Bilbo told me about an elf from Mirkwood that was captured, he said they tortured him."

"What happened to him? He must have survived if Bilbo knew about it." Legolas asked hoping to get off this unpleasant topic and thinking that it might at least lighten their hearts to hear of one who had made into Bilbo's "old tales".

"Well" began Sam happily forgetting the earlier line of questioning "I'll tell it the way Bilbo told me. It's a beautiful story, mostly, maybe you know the elf Mister Legolas, being so old and all" he added shyly.

"I will tell you if I knew him" he promised.

"Well, the elf was from Mirkwood, Bilbo didn't actually meet him, he heard it from some of the archers. It seems that he was commander of the archers of Mirkwood…" There was a strangled sound from Legolas' direction which was promptly cut off when Sam glared at him.

"Well, he was the best archer in Mirkwood" continued Sam "Actually he was the best archer in all of Arda. Elves from all over would come to see him shoot, he could even shoot blindfolded. He never missed a shot."

"You do know Sam" Legolas interrupted "that the archers of the _Greenwood_ are extremely prone to exaggeration especially concerning their commander. Elves did _not_ come from all over Arda to see the commander's archery" This time he received glares from both hobbits than Sam asked "So you do know him?" Legolas nodded "_If_ he were here" he said cautiously "he would be the first to tell you that is an exaggeration, I happen to know that he has missed shots."

"But he can shoot blindfolded?" pleaded Sam. Legolas sighed "Aye, he can. But it is long since my people have had time for such pleasantries."

"The elves called him Cuthalion, because it meant Strongbow" added Frodo remembering the tale. It had been one of his favorites was a child. Legolas grinned at the translation though he knew that it was for Sam's benefit.

"Well, the princess of the Greenwood was the most beautiful _elleth_ in the kingdom and the commander loved her dearly." continued Sam. Legolas smiled, Erynel _was_ the most beautiful maiden in Arda in his opinion excepting perhaps the Evenstar and her grandmother.  
"One day she strayed away from the elven-path as she danced through the forest. Only the commander saw that she was gone and he followed as swiftly as he could. But the orcs found her first and as he followed through the trees he saw her taken though she fought bravely and bound to one of the trees with her wrists above her head."

"Cuthalion saw that if he attacked the orcs would use her as a hostage" continued Frodo "but he had no time left for planning since the orcs were preparing to torture the one he loved so he raised his bow and…"

"Shot right through the rope that bound her wrists and told her to find shelter in the trees" cut in Sam. "Then he leapt down and fought with the orcs even though he was badly outnumbered so that the princess could escape. He killed so many that there was a veritable mountain of bodies around him…Legolas! Are you laughing?" he asked turning outraged for the prince's shoulders were shaking suspiciously.

"I am sorry Sam" he gasped "It is just that the story is nearly unrecognizable from the truth."  
"It is not" put in Frodo indignantly "The princess saw it all from where she was hidden in the tree."

"Very well Master Hobbit" sighed the prince "have it your way."

"Finally the orcs overpowered him by jumping on him all at once" said Sam ignoring a soft chuckle from the elf "They were very angry about losing the princess and when they saw who he was they demanded that he tell them where she was."

"Which of course he would not" added Frodo "So they tortured him for days while the princess waited hoping for a chance to set him free."

"He never even cried out even as they flogged him and stabbed him" said Sam proudly "He was utterly fearless and defied them to their faces. I can't imagine being that brave that Mister Legolas." he shuddered. "I think that you _are_ that brave" said the elf gently "He was hardly "utterly fearless" he just hid it for his sister's sake as you would no doubt do for Frodo." Legolas realized his slip a moment too late. "His sister!" exclaimed Sam "I always wondered why he didn't marry her, I thought it was because she was the princess…wait if…if his sister was the princess that means that he was…"

"The prince!" finished Frodo triumphantly and they both looked towards Legolas who had an expression of the utmost doom written on his face.

"You're Cuthalion" they gasped together.

"It wasn't nearly as interesting as Bilbo made it" he pleaded "Stop looking at me like that. _Saes_, I am not Glorfindel or Finrod or even the real Cuthalion." He glared at Sam "there was no "mountain of bodies" and I was terrified to be absolutely honest. I simply ignored it because I was more worried about my sister."

Frodo and Sam just grinned. "Then the trees will listen to you?" asked Sam for the conclusion of the story involved a highly fanciful combination of angered trees aiding the woodland archer and a fearless princess. "Aye, they listen unless their hearts have become utterly black, it was they that lead me find you so quickly."

Legolas took first watch that night while Frodo and Sam slept in the cave. The story at bolstered their drooping spirits and they both felt cheery since whatever Legolas might say they found the company of an elven warrior out of one of Bilbo's tales highly comforting.

"That was an eye-opener and no mistake" whispered Sam from his side of the cave. "Wait until we tell Mister Bilbo and Merry and Pippin. They both loved that story, and it was Mister Legolas the whole time!"

"Legolas is the prince _and _a commander, I wager they miss him back home." returned Frodo "do you think the king will be angry with him for joining us?"

"I'd never thought of that" said Sam honestly "I hear the king is none too lenient, but after all, Lord Elrond chose him and he is his son. I can't imagine the king would be very angry to his own son."

"Then you imagine wrongly" came a soft voice from outside "my father was seriously displeased and I imagine I will answer for it when I return. My father must be firm or he would be a weak king. It will be but a small price to pay for helping to rid Arda of evil and although I hate to anger him I believe I was meant to be a part of the Fellowship."

"You mean you will be in trouble for helping us?" squeaked Sam "What will he do to you?"  
There was a merry laugh "Perhaps sometime in the dungeons to cool my rash spirit?"  
"Dungeons!"

"My father loves me greatly but he fears for me, no parent wishes their child to walk into the stronghold of their greatest enemy and rumors like that of Cuthalion do not help the matter. If he is harsh it is born out of a desire to protect. Now little ones, sleep."

"Legolas?" came Frodo's sleepy voice "Strider has a lot of names and he is much younger then you. How many do you have?"

"Too many" answered the elf "perhaps someday in the peace of Minas Tirith I shall tell you of them. For now sleep, let no shadow touch your thoughts." And he began to sing quietly the soft elven words soothing the hobbits as they slipped into a much need rest.


	3. Chapter 3 - Onwards to Ithilian

Chapter 3 – Onwards to Ithilian

Frodo and Sam woke to a dull and dreary day, Legolas had apparently located water, no doubt using some nameless elven sense. Once again they thanked the Valar that he had rejoined them, for he was a tireless guide, a sleepless watcher, good company as they had long ago discovered and apparently skilled in finding food and water where others would have despaired. They decided that the last was no doubt a useful skill in the forbidding depths of Mirkwood.

The day passed swiftly and more enjoyably then either of the hobbits had thought possible. Legolas proved to be full of jokes and merry stories and occasionally singing some light-hearted elven ditty. Both hobbits had grown used to such tactics during the long marches towards Moria, but Lothlorien and the forced separation of the Fellowship on the river had dimmed their memories of the merry wood-elf.

There had been a swift interrogation of the miserable Gollum in the morning after their first (and only) breakfast. Legolas had again unleashed what Sam called "his royal highness" on the creature. After much whining and growling and pitiful whimpering (they hatessss usss, they doess) the trio had discovered that there was indeed a second way into Mordor called Cirith Ungol…

_ Sam watched as Legolas questioned the pathetic heap on the ground, with occasional comments from Frodo whom Gollum had a sneaking liking for (for some reason that Sam could not fathom) after a miserable afternoon they discovered that there was a secret path._

_"Many stairsssss" hissed Gollum._

_"That is of no consequence as long as we can enter the Black Land" returned the elf "can you guide us there?"_

_The creature collapsed bonelessly upon the ground "Aiiiiiiiiiii" he wailed "Wraithessss, alwayssss watching, they waitsssss for us precioussss!"_

_"Wraiths!" gasped Frodo "You claimed this was a secret way…why are there wraiths patrolling it?"_

_"They doessssn't" sobbed Gollum "They waitssss in the moon tower. They watches the passsss from there. But we slipped by them once, long ago, we trickesssss them." He clawed at Frodo's feet._

_"Daro!" said Legolas as Frodo shrank back frightened. Gollum stopped dead, hands frozen in mid-air._

_Legolas knelt on one knee and looked him in the eye "Smeagol" he said in an oddly gentle voice "This path leads past the Morgul Vale and into the land of Mordor. We understand the dangers and are ready to face them. The Eldar do not fear the Ringwraiths as mortals do, while you travel with me, you have what protection I can give even as Sam and Frodo do. Will you lead us to this pass?" Gollum nodded numbly "We leads them precious, we leads them to Cirith Ungol"_

_Legolas stiffened at the hearing the dreaded name but said nothing, Sam decided that there were some things better not known and so he did not ask. If Legolas wished to carry the burden of whatever it was then Sam would certainly not gainsay him._

They walked until nightfall, resting frequently for the sake of the hobbits. Occasionally Legolas would pick one of them up in turn and carry them to make better time. At first both hobbits resented this and said so in loud and angry tones. However, as their feet grew wearier and the day lengthened their protests grew less forceful until they caved in all together and Sam was picked up still protesting feebly that "hobbits were made with two good feet for a reason and that reason was _not_ so that certain elves could show off their vaunted endurance". Legolas laughed and picked him up regardless.

"Why didn't you tell people what to do earlier" asked Sam suddenly. Legolas shot him a confused look.

"What?"

"Sam!" said Frodo "That isn't polite" Sam turned red. "But since you asked, I've wondering the same thing."

Legolas shook his head "What are you two talking about? Is this some obscure way to get back at me for daring to pick up hobbits?"

"You never said much back when we had Gandalf and Aragorn" explained Frodo "You are acting completely differently now"

"Yes" interrupted Sam "You are a wonderful leader now, I would never have guessed it when we were with the others."

"Oh, that" smiled Legolas "As you have guessed, I am used to being in command and taking charge of situations, it is a skill that I learned in the Greenwood. Since I was born the prince, I needed to be able to set an example, to lead the archers into battle when my father could not. On this journey though, I am not the prince of the Greenwood, I am a member of the fellowship. While Gandalf remained with us I was quite content to let him guide us, for he is far greater and of more experience than I. After he fell, Aragorn needed to test his own leadership. He is after all preparing to become the king of Gondor and Arnor. And so I was again content to follow, for he has much experience and knows these lands well. Does that answer your questions?"

"You mean you don't like telling people what to do?" asked Sam.

"If I enjoyed putting myself above others I could hardly be a good leader Sam. It is an unforgiving task to ask others to trust you, while knowing that however, skilled one is a single mistake on your part can be deadly."

"You don't seem worried" observed Frodo

Legolas laughed again though it sounded a trifle forced "It would not be well for a leader to show his fears. How can you ask confidence of others when you have none yourself?"

They slept all that night and the next day for Legolas decided that it would be best to travel under the cover of night now that they were so near to Mordor, and Gollum had become increasingly difficult. His mutterings and wailings about the "yellow face" had begun to grate on even Legolas' seemingly inexhaustible patience.

The days dragged on and the hobbits spirits began to fall, even the prince seemed to become grimmer and older as the days went by. Neither hobbit could fully comprehend the pain and horror their nearness to Mordor was inflicting on him. The deadness and desolation spread out on every side while the dark mountains that were Sauron's ramparts loomed ominously overhead. The air was stall and dry. It was disgusting and dispiriting to the hobbits but to an elf it was a living hell. It would have been hard enough for any elf, but to a wood elf and especially one with Legolas' connection to nature it became physical pain. He was not named "greenleaf" for nothing and to those who could see he would have seemed withered untimely.

Still he showed it as little as he could and did what he could to strengthen their flagging spirits, a mighty task with Gollum limping miserably along. The hobbits still laughed when he told them old stories of his childhood in the Greenwood, before the shadow fell. Of his gentle mother and vivacious sister. He sang old songs that he and the children of Elrond had composed long ago when the world was a younger merrier place. He told them about the mysterious invisible visitor that once entered the palace and stole hobbit-sized breakfasts and luncheons and dinners and coughed and chuckled in corners. They laughed when they imagined Bilbo offering his father a necklace in recompense for the stolen food.

"Bilbo never told me that part of his adventure" muttered Sam.

"Well, no doubt Master Bilbo didn't want to cloud his illustrious career as a burglar by admitting that he paid for what he took and with great generosity!" guessed Legolas "My father was greatly impressed by Bilbo. Especially when he willingly turned over the Arkenstone."

They entered Ithilian that night, five long days and nights since their day of rest. They all breathed more freely in the air of the forest, even Gollum perked up slightly. The hobbits smiled happily and Legolas made them all laugh by dancing through the trees laughing like an elfling. He fell in love with those woods the minute they crossed into them for they seemed a gift of the Valar after those days of desolation. Here the shadow lay more lightly and he amused the hobbits by laying his hands upon the trunks of the trees and helping them to grow with great seriousness and determination. It was with light hearts and merry laughter that they woke to the trees and grass the next morning.

* * *

Thank you to everyone that reviewed. I used to laugh at the authors that begged for reviews but now I can see why they did. They are very encouraging, especially as I am a first time fan fiction writer (_Hope oft is born_ is my first try) and this is my second. I cannot apparently reply to anonymous reviews but I assure you that they are read and appreciated none the less!

I have actually already written the ending, so it is just a matter of filling in the gaps...  
Next chapter Faramir meets an elf and two hobbits :)

Nota Bene: I didn't look this chapter over quite as much as the earlier ones...so having discovered what (to me at least) were appalling mistakes, I have corrected them and re-uploaded. For those of us who are perfectionists.

Shire Rose


	4. Chapter 4 - A Mûmak and an Elf

Chapter 4 – A Mûmak and an Elf

Faramir led his men towards the spot he had chosen for the ambush with as much energy as he could muster. He was weary, so weary, of the fighting, of the killing, of the constant warfare and siege. Boromir wanted peace as much as he but he had thrived on the constant challenge and endless strategy. And now he felt alone, alone as he had not been since his mother had passed. There was a great emptiness in his heart where before he had felt a merry boldness and ringing laughter. The pale boat had but confirmed what the distant horn and his aching heart had known; that his brother was gone wither he could not follow.

Faramir was a good captain, even an inspired leader, but where some felt the joy of battle for a just cause he simply could not. He took pleasure in peace and prosperity, in helping the people in their simple tasks and petty problems, in reading tales of the great days of long ago. Day-dreaming about elves and other such nonsense his father called it, but to Faramir it was a ray of hope in the darkness that pressed so close. For long ago men and elves had fought and died together, Firstborn and Secondborn, mortal and immortal working in harmony as Eru had intended. And they had triumphed, Morgoth had fallen (with the help of the Valar) and even Sauron had been diminished by their alliance long ago in the dawn of his city.

He longed for those days, for while there had been unfathomable sorrow and uncounted tears there had also been light and joy and beauty beyond mortal ken. He thought upon the tales he had heard, the beauty of Menegroth of the Thousand Caves, crafted by dwarves and filled with elven light. There in Doriath had shone the brightest of elven beauty, Luthien the Beloved. Of Gondolin, the hidden kingdom, where peace had flourished and great heroes born. Of these two had sprang Eärendil and Elwing, foreparents of the Dunedain, the legacy of old he, himself had a dim share in.

Damrod looked back at him and grinned and he turned his thoughts from the days of the High Elves to the task at hand. He grimaced, they were ambushing men not orcs; it was always harder to kill fellow men. Orcs were twisted and vile creatures, better off with no life at all but men were _kin_, and Faramir was not one to judge what motives or threats had brought them to the side of the Dark Lord. However, they threatened Minas Tirith and he was ready to die as well as kill in her defense so he strung his bow and smiled back at Damrod.

He gave the trees a sharp glance, his men were well concealed, their green and brown garments blending perfectly with the forest.

He looked around startled.

Something intangible had changed the forest around him. It was a good change, somehow it seemed a little brighter, the trees a bit greener, the grass less faded. It lightened his heart imperceptibly, the weight of his task was less burdensome, his city less doomed and shadows less thick.

His practiced ears caught the tramp of marching feet and a heavier note, Mûmakil. The sound grew in intensity until the air rang with the iron tread. The leading soldiers passed through the defile and still they waited. Nearly half of the enemy had passed when he finally gave the signal. A sharp whistle on the wind and chaos ran rampant. A hail of arrows fell on the unsuspecting Haradrim and the air filled with the cries of the wounded and dying. Another whistle and another flight of arrows and another. He unsheathed his sword and leapt forward, his men around him, bursting from concealment, battle cries on their lips.

They swept forward pushing the Haradrim into further disarray. He swung his sword methodically, never wasting a single stroke. The blade reddened at the first pass. There was a faint sound behind him. He turned swinging his blade up instinctually.

A ring of steel on steel.

The blade was crimson now.

He swung forward again, Anborn was fighting three, his sword and dagger silver blurs. Faramir took one by surprise and the steel meet soft flesh.

A grunt of pain and silence.

The second turned and meet his blade as he brought it up. Anborn finished off the third with a thrust. Faramir caught a glimpse of red behind him and a silver flash as his friend covered his back. Around him the enemy was retreating, they had lost over half their original number. As he turned back to the battle a new sound intruded itself unto his consciousness.

A bellow and a shake in the ground – the Mûmak.

He saw it a second too late distracted, by a sword thrust to his left. It was huge, by far the biggest that he had ever seen. It was upon him, charging in blind fury to where he stood, a tiny figure against a charging mountain of muscle and tusks.

"Valar save me" he whispered.

There was a flash of gold and green and amazingly the mûmak turned blindly away from him.

He watched it frozen for a moment. There on a rise to his right stood a slender figure clad in green and brown, long golden hair adrift in the wind. The arrow flew as Faramir watched and he guessed rightly that his salvation had come from the same quiver. The elf, for so Faramir guessed his rescuer was, leapt to the side as the mûmak charged down. Faramir gasped, he was _underneath_ the beast. He caught a glimpse of steel behind one of the huge legs and another flash of gold as the elf jumped forward from beneath the falling bulk.

The mûmak fell forward on its damaged leg and the elf had another arrow to his string in a blinding movement. The beast fell silent as it was struck and lay quiet. Its killer made an oddly respectful gesture towards his dead foe and turned towards Faramir.

The captain stood stunned as the arrow flew towards him.

* * *

I apologize for the shortness of this chapter, but the cliffhanger came out of nowhere and begged to be used. :)

Hopefully I will be able to update all three of my stories tomorrow :)

I thought I'd give a non-PJ version of elf vs. Mûmak a try. Something cool but believable.

Till tomorrow...

Shire Rose

Love the reviews everyone...


	5. Chapter 5 - The Fury of the Halflings

Chapter 5 – The Fury of the Halflings

The captain stood stunned as the arrow flew towards him.

He saw the delicate fletchings and the slender, straight shaft. It was a beautiful weapon, down to the gleaming elven point, leaf-shaped and deadly. His limbs felt frozen in place and he realized with a start that the elf had his eyes fixed on him, and inexplicably he knew why he had been paralyzed. The elf did not wish him to move.

Then everything began moving at a normal pace, he heard something snap behind his head as the arrow brushed his hair. He turned and blinked. The elven arrow had intercepted another intended for his neck. The Haradrim arrow lay in the dirt, where green and gold shaft had flung it. It was useless, split in half by unbelievable elven accuracy.

Around him the fighting was slowing, he noticed now that many of the enemy lay with elven arrows through their hearts. Death had come instantly and painlessly. He felt intensely relieved that he had mistaken the intent of the strange elf; and rather ashamed that he had so easily assumed that one who had dared the wrath of a mûmak to save him would murderer him.

Damrod was calling his name, he rushed over in time to see Anborn fall, a black shafted arrow in his thigh. He ran towards his men cutting down all in his path. He reached the fallen ranger as a soldier prepared to skewer him with his curved sword. He darted forward, his sword catching the blow as it fell. He stood tall and proud above Anborn guarding him with all his skill. A quick feint to the right left the other's left open.

It was over.

He looked back over the field. Corpses lay sprawled over the grass and in the dust of the path. There would be no survivors to tell the tale to Sauron and his allies. The might of Gondor might be waning but she was still a proud and deadly adversary. He smiled wanly; perhaps he had bought his beloved city a few more months of peace.

* * *

Sam and Frodo watched petrified from their perch in the tree where Legolas had set them. They both felt nervous about being in a tree and neither felt that Legolas' assurances that the tree would not _let_ them fall were very comforting. They were quickly forced to accept them, however, as Sam let go of his branch completely when the elf vanished beneath the Oliphant as he called it. He had just begun to pitch forward when an obliging branch stopped his fall and he found that they had woven a sort of net about him.

Both were highly relieved when they saw the Oliphant die, until Frodo's eyes caught a glimpse of steel was the light winked off a cruel-looking barbed arrow. It was aimed for the elf as he knelt above a wounded ranger.

"Legolas!" they called "Behind you"

"Legolas!"

"Please! Look behind you!"

Either the elf could not hear them over the cries of the wounded or he was too intent upon his task, for he gave no sign that they had been heard. They watched helplessly as it flew forward, black against the golden sky.

Legolas heard the arrow at the last possible second, an odd keening whistle as the barbs cut through the air. He twisted to the right, keeping his body between the wounded ranger and the arrow.

It smashed into his shoulder mercilessly ripping through flesh and muscle and he slumped forward over the ranger he had been healing.

Faramir watched horrified as the elf who had twice saved his life lay pale and bleeding in the dust. He had begun to assume that this elf was indestructible after seeing him kill the mûmak. Now his golden protector lay shattered at his feet, bleeding his immortal life away, as vulnerable as any mortal. He felt oddly guilty, after all the elf had been healing _his_ man and he had seen the way the other had positioned himself to protect Anborn.

Reason, however, told him that there was nothing he could have done. Clearly the elf knew what he was doing, it had been his choice to help Anborn as much as it been his choice to take the arrow rather than risk hurt to a wounded man. So, thrusting aside his misgivings Faramir ran forward to help the injured elf.

Sam kicked the tree as hard as he could.

"LET US DOWN!" he yelled. The tree made no answer.

"Please" said Frodo in slightly less belligerent tone "_Saes? _Legolas is hurt and we want to help him."

The leaves rustled around them though the wind had died down. In after years, Sam swore that they were debating the question among themselves. Be that as it may, the branches stirred finally and formed a fragile ladder which the hobbits made prompt and speedy use of.

Legolas pulled himself upright with an effort. It was not the worst pain he had dealt with but nothing to be laughed at. He almost wished that it had gone right through rather than firmly embedding itself, for now they would have cut it out and he grimly prepared himself for an agonizing time of it.

Faramir reached him just before the others. "I am Faramir of Gondor" he said looking aghast at the blood covering the other.

"Laiqalasse of the Greenwood" returned the prince using his time-worn alias.

Faramir gave the injured limb a swift appraisal. "I will have to cut it out" he said feeling horribly barbaric at the thought of using a knife on that perfect being. The elf merely nodded.

He turned to the rangers.

"Amras and Aralad, see what you can do for Anborn. Damrod and Harlin hold his shoulder steady." He drew his hunting knife and his tinder box.

He passed the knife through the blaze to cleanse it watching admiringly the impassive face of the elf. He had not felt so nervous since the day he told his father of his vision of Boromir's dead body in the elven boat.

He raised it and leant forward to grasp the arrow when two things happened. An angry blur of brass buttons and large and hairy feet hurled him backward while its angry owner called him a number of ugly names in strident tones.

The hobbits watched horrified as the rangers held Legolas down. It was all the more horrible because he didn't struggle, clearly he was either unconscious or gravely wounded. When Faramir ran the knife through the fire their fear for the elf won out over their prudence and Legolas' instructions to stay hidden. Together they rushed forward as the leader, whose life they had seen Legolas save _twice_ raised his knife to cut into his savior's shoulder.

They jumped on him together yelling angrily, the normally soft-spoken Frodo calling poor Faramir elven names that would have made Bilbo blush while Sam made use of an extensive vocabulary that his gaffer would have most definitely have denied teaching him.

It took Faramir a few stunned seconds to realize that he had been attacked by _two halflings_. By the time he recovered his wits sufficiently the brown haired one had a sharp elven dagger at his throat and the other as assuring his men that if "they so much a tried to harm another hair on the prince's head after all he had done for them he would personally see to it that they never harmed anyone again!" and he looked it, halfling though he was.

The rangers were in various stages of anger, chagrin and confusion, but with the captain firmly incapacitated by Sting they feared to act, so they contented themselves with glaring fiercely at the halflings in silence, which glares the hobbits cheerfully returned with interest.

There was a very long and awkward silence.

Then a merry albeit pained laugh came from where the elf lay abandoned. Legolas pushed himself on his side and waved the hobbits away from Faramir.

"They were aiding me" he said his voice rough from the pain "The arrow has to be removed with a knife. Do not worry for me though I thank you for your courage on my behalf." he smiled somewhat awkwardly "Sam I am curious to know what being 'tarred and feathered' entails, or do I not want to know?" Sam turned a becoming shade of pink. The elf turned to Frodo "and where did you pick up those bits of elvish, evellon? Not from Bilbo I hope." Frodo stammered something unintelligible while his face took on a reddish hue and Legolas looked at Faramir and grinned.

Faramir picked himself up from the ground and retrieved his knife. The rangers started forward their hands on their sword hilts as they surrounded the elf and the halflings that had held their beloved captain at sword point.

* * *

I am sorry, really don't know where the cliffies keep coming from. I started writing this story backwards, based on a scene that I envisioned at the end. Since then it has taken to writing itself...and I can honestly say that I had NO idea that Legolas would be shot when I started this chapter. So take comfort in the fact the _I_ have to _write _chapter after the cliffies while you only need to wait for it.

At least you can't complain that I don't update frequently. :) I don't know much about medicine (even though nearly all my numerous uncles and aunts are doctors and nurses and physical therapists) so feel free to correct me on that if you know better.

Also I simply cannot seem to write long chapters..goodness knows I _have_ tried. Sorry! (Sheepish grin)

Thank you to everyone who reviewed...and I will try to write a suitable follow up in between studying for a huge and very scary philosophy mid-term.

Shire Rose


	6. Chapter 6 - The Captain and the Prince

Chapter 6 – The Captain and the Prince

Now that their fear for Legolas had been allayed Frodo and Sam felt very small and insignificant indeed. It suddenly occurred to them that they had just attacked a captain who had been apparently saving the elf's life. They looked wide-eyed at the tall and grim men surrounding them. They felt every bit of pluck and angry drain away into fear as they were surrounded by drawn swords.

"Put up your swords men of Gondor, they meant no harm!" the voice was soft and pain-filled but it brooked no defiance.

The rangers wavered, looking to their captain. He nodded and signed them to sheathe the swords.

"If you are willing to try again, I promise my friends will not attack you again" said the prince looking pointedly at the hobbits.

They blushed redder than they had been before. The prince smiled and turned to Faramir

"I know that you have many questions and I will answer all that I can, Faramir of Gondor, but I would rather not do so with a black arrow in my shoulder. They make for awkward interrogations."

The rangers stared at him, it had never occurred to them that an arrow in one's shoulder could possibly be treated lightly.

Legolas grimaced a little as the knife dug into his shoulder but his corners of his lips twitched at the looks that he was being given.

"I am sorry" he said "I am not mad, after hundreds of years of being shot full of arrows, one slowly discovers that it pays to be cheerful even to arrows and swords cuts."

"Hundreds of years?" gasped Damrod "How old are you? Where are you from?"

"Much older than I look" replied the prince his voice cracking as Faramir cut the last of the barbs out of his flesh "Mirkwood" he gasped when he speak again.

The Gondorians drew away aghast as they heard the name.

"You live in the haunted forest? The shadowed wood?" stuttered Harlin.

"I know not what tales they tell of the Greenwood in the White City these days" replied the prince as Faramir bound his shoulder "Long ago when the Greenwood was a place of light and beauty your people were welcoming to the folk of King Thranduil. We still hold the shadow at bay in the north even as Gondor holds back the shadow in the east."

Faramir offered him a hand as he struggled to his feet.

"It is true" he said "Mithrandir told me of the elves of Mirkwood, he knew the king and the prince. He said that the king had even sent his son to Gondor thousands of years ago to renew the old ties of friendship."

Frodo and Sam gaped at Legolas "How old _are_ you?" they asked oblivious of the men about them.

Legolas didn't hear them, wrapped up in the memories that Faramir's mention of Gandalf and his ill-fated journey to the Minas Anor.

"Legolas!"

He came back to earth with a jolt. He had told Faramir that his name was Laiqalasse, but naturally the hobbits could not have known that. He wondered how much Gandalf told this captain of Gondor. Would he recognize the name?

Faramir was staring at him in open admiration and his men looked nervous. _Ai, just when everything was calming down. Why can I never be simply Legolas? Always the prince catches up and ruins it for me!_

"I am Legolas Thranduilion" he said unconsciously straightening and radiating power and wisdom. "I had hoped to remain unnoticed but it seems that that is not to be." he looked down at the hobbits who had apparently decided that bright red should become a permanent fixture in their facial coloring.

"Laiqalasse is Quenyan" he finished before Faramir could speak.

Faramir had never felt so awed save in the presence of Mithrandir. This elf that had saved his life was _the _Prince of Mirkwood. Gandalf had told him stories of the prince when he was a child. It was highly disconcerting to have a childhood legend who had walked the streets of his city thousands of years ago standing before him, youthful and smiling.

"Gandalf told me stories about the elves and your father and you" he managed at last, he looked around at the stunned rangers "and I told them around campfires to men under my command. You must forgive us, we are not used to legends walking in the light of day."

The elf laughed "Mithrandir always exaggerated his stories, I used not to recognize them when he told them to his captive audiences." a shade of deep, incomprehensible sorrow and loss passed over his eyes "I am not used to being a legend though I have walked beside many. Does this make us even?"

There was silence for a moment.

Roughly it was broken as Sam pointed an accusing finger at the elf "You told them that your name was Laiqalasse!" he growled "You played the same trick on me when we first met. _Why_ do you sneak around pretending that you aren't a prince?"

The Gondorians looked appalled by the effrontery for the halfling to their legend but the prince only sighed.

"It is not wise to tell everyone you meet your true name. I have meet many who hated my father or me, it has been used against me in the past" his hand brushed his face and for a horrible moment the mortals had clear and vivid vision of the prince laying lifelessly on the ground, his hair chopped about his face, his body broken and bloody and a great charred mark maiming the fair face.

The moment passed and Legolas looked at their blanched faces in wonder

"What has happened?" he asked worriedly.

"You face" stuttered Frodo "It was burnt and you were laying broken on the ground."

The prince paled and snatched his hand from his face "You _could_ not have seen that." he said horrified as he looked into their eyes.

"I beg your forgiveness" he said at last "you _should_ not have seen that. I would never willingly inflict such memories on others."

He turned back to Sam "Also I tire of being always honored or feared. It is well to make friends who love you for yourself, not for who you are or because wizards tell foolish stories about you. Does that answer you complaint _tithen pen_?"

Faramir and Frodo chuckled while Sam glared.

"We should not linger here, Faramir of Gondor" said Legolas

"We go to a refuge, known to us as Henneth Annûn" said Faramir looking his men over "We have never before shown it to a stranger. I would bind your eyes for your protection as well as ours if it is agreeable to you."

"Do as you will" replied Legolas "So were we treated even among my kin in Lothlorien" he smiled "We will not be intractable as I was there."

The sun was setting as they reached the refuge, the golden rays striking a curtain of spray as they passed under it to enter the cave. The three stood beneath it admiring the glistening veil, sparkling as though woven of rubies and gold. The light touched the faces of the hobbits smoothing away the lines of care and toil. Around Legolas it spun a shining web of light, scintillating off of his brilliant hair and throwing his fair face into handsome relief. The rangers watched them approvingly while the three admired their window to the west.

They were offered water for washing which they (especially Legolas) accepted gratefully and wine to sooth their thirst as well as mats to rest on as dinner was prepared. The hobbits rolled onto the mats falling asleep immediately.

Legolas didn't grant himself such a privilege, although he sensed no malice from the rangers, as guardian of the hobbits he felt it his duty to remain on watch. He glanced around and asked Faramir if there was ought he could do aid them in thanks for their service and shelter.

"Prince Legolas" said Faramir shocked "You saved my life well as Anborn's, the least we can do in thanks is grant you food and shelter. You owe us nothing."

"Then receive it as a gift" said the prince "May I aid you in preparing dinner?"

"If you truly wish to" said Faramir liking the unpretentious prince the more by the minute.

And so Legolas promptly ensconced himself among the cutting boards and pots, laughing merrily as he taught the rangers several elven ways to enhance their plain food. The rangers in turn opened up under his unconscious authority and smiling requests and hurried to do his bidding. The fire in the back leapt to sudden life at a word from the prince and he busied himself in the cooking.

Frodo and Sam woke to a wonderful smell that pervaded the cavern. It woke a dim memory in them, tantalizing and out of reach. They stumbled towards it and discovered the prince ladling out a wonderful soup and slicing bread. The nearness of the elf and the light of the fire reminded them of their dinner with Gildor in the shire and they realized what they had been remembering.

"I hope you do not mind Sam" said Legolas not looking up "I borrowed some of your herbs and spices."

"Ohhh" said Sam "No, no I don't mind at all. In fact I am glad you were able to put them to use. That smells lovely!"

Legolas laughed motioning the hobbits and the rangers forward and turned to Faramir. They stood facing the West for a long silent moment and then turned eagerly to the food.

Faramir could not remember a better feast in all his years of dining at his father's table. There was a freshness and a vitality to it that could not be imitated by mortal hands. The hobbits didn't even bother trying to describe it, contenting themselves with eating and enjoying it while they could.

The fire died low and the company fell silent. Legolas looked at the drowsy hobbits and then at Faramir.

"We can give some answers" he said at last "but do not expect a full explanation for we are sworn to silence on some matters."

"I can accept that" said Faramir leading them to the back of the cavern

"What can you tell me of the halflings and yourself for we deem my brother perished for the sake of some such as they."

"Faramir and Boromir, sons of the steward" said Legolas softly "You are his brother ."

Faramir straightened and looked into the eyes of the other "An elf, two halflings and heir of the steward. What do you know of my brother? Read me this riddle O Legolas of Mirkwood for I loved him greatly and my father waits for news of his firstborn."

Legolas returned the gaze evenly "I am sorry" he said gently "He died upon the slopes of Amon H n."

Faramir's face crumpled in anguish.

"He died bravely fighting against the cursed urk-hai of Saruman for the sake of the halfling's kin."

Sam woke up at the name of Boromir, Legolas had never told them what happened after they were separated and now hearing "Boromir…urk-hai…died…halfling's kin" his sleepy mind put the worst construction on the words and he turned angrily on man and elf.

"How dare you say he was brave" he snarled "he tried to steal the ring from Frodo! He _**betrayed**_ us. How dare you defend him! What did you do to Merry and Pippin. Did _you_ aid him in his treachery. You do not want to help, you have been lying to us all along" he clawed at Legolas' knives as the elf stood stunned before his outburst.

He reached the handle and tugged, the blade slide free and he held it up to the prince's neck.

"You traitor!" he yelled and pushed it hard against the skin.

Legolas stood quietly as the cold blade pushed against his neck. He guessed at once what Sam thought of him and so said nothing, letting the other finish his outburst.

Faramir was shocked when the halfing turned on his friend and accused his brother of treachery. When he mentioned the ring he saw with sudden clarity and knew that it was as the halfling had said.

"Sam, _Sam_" said the elf gently "I am not here to take it. I swore to you by everything that I am that I will aid you and I hold to that vow. Put down the knife." Sam looked up wide-eyed and suddenly awake and then down at the knife in his hand. He shuddered, dropping it to the ground and flung his arms around the elf, sobbing as Frodo awoke.

* * *

Well...this was actually finished last night but the library internet loaded everything but this. So here it is.

If anyone has plot bunnies I actually wouldn't mind them, I have the story line of _H__ope oft is born_ well in hand but my ideas for _F__irst Impressions _seem to have gone on vacation to Angband. Ughhhh.

Last notes, the fashback/face burned scene is from _Hope oft is born_. My stories seem to have all become inextricably tangled in each other.

Thank you to everyone that has reviewed. It definitely helps my elvish :) and brightens my day!

Shire Rose

I just hit 1000 views for this fic! I can't believe how positive everyone has been, I posted my first story _ever_ exactly a week ago!


	7. Chapter 7 - The Road to Mordor

Chapter 7 - The Road to Mordor

Frodo woke to raised voices. He sat up fearfully as he recognized Sam weeping nearby. Faramir stood an unreadable expression on his noble face. Legolas was kneeling on one knee as Sam sobbed uncontrollably in his arms.

In the dust at their feet, lay one of Legolas' knives, a trace of red upon the sharp edge. The elf's neck wore a thin matching stain against the white skin. Frodo stared confused, the knife lay out of reach of the captain and Legolas would not have wounded himself.

Sam?

Surely Sam had not laid a blade to their friend? As if he heard the unspoken question Sam turned and nodded miserably, confirming Frodo's fears.

Legolas stood and looked Frodo in the eye.

"There was a regrettable misunderstanding" he said gently, turning towards Sam who lowered his eyes.

"I did not want to burden you with the tale of what happened to split the Fellowship but now I must." said the elf wearily, "I was wrong to keep it from you."

Faramir stepped forward "I have heard you speak of the ring" he said slowly "Surely you can speak the rest of the tale, for that no doubt is the part of your story you wished to remain hidden."

Frodo turned white as he realized that their purpose was discovered, while Sam reddened remembering the unfounded anger that had caused him to speak of what should not have been spoken.

Legolas said nothing but gazed deeply into the eyes of the other, he found no deceit in the captain nor overweening pride, only love for his city and an unassuming honesty.

Satisfied, he began the tale. He told them of the capture of Merry and Pippin and the death of Boromir. Then he swiftly told Faramir of the council and its decision, of the fall of Gandalf, their stay in Lothlorien and the journey down the Anduin.

"We seek the hidden path of Cirith Ungol" he finished. Faramir's eyes had filled with unshed tears as he spoke of the death of Gandalf but at the mention of Cirith Ungol he could not completely hid his fear.

"That is a place of ill-repute" he said "Men shiver at its name, and not only because it passes near unto Minas Morgul."

"Wither else could we go?" asked Frodo "For surely it offers more chance than attempting to pass the black gate."

Faramir shook his head "I know of no other pass" he said "but I would that need did not drive you into such peril."

Legolas smiled slightly "We will be in peril, however we enter the black land, and least among them will be the path of our entry."

Faramir nodded slowly, "I will not try to dissuade you" he said, "for your errand will not wait, but I will give you what aid I may."

"You won't try to stop us?" blurted Sam "You don't want the ring? I…I…mean, Boro…your brother…you are not alike at all."

Faramir smiled sadly.

"I loved my brother greatly, but I will not deny that he was a proud man though not without reason. I do not desire glory or honor or great power, I wish only to see my city merry and peaceful as it was long ago, before the shadow returned."

He looked into Frodo's eyes, "I do not fight for the love of the sword or the lust of battle, even in a just cause. I wield my sword only that we might have peace again, that the women and children of White City might live in safety without fear of siege or loss of husband or father. That someday I will not lose another man to the forces of the enemy. You also are attempting a task that you do not desire for the sake of many. I understand that this trinket cannot be used without succumbing to its power. I would not take it if you offered it to me freely."

They left at first light, their packs refilled from Faramir's stores and walking sticks in the hands of the hobbits. They bade the rangers farewell and turned their steps towards Minas Morgul, trying not to think of waited them behind the deadly valley. Even worse, their miserable guide had failed to reappear after his well-timed disappearance at the first sign of the rangers.

Legolas believed that he would be able to find the stairs that Gollum spoke of without his aid, but he had even of less of a desire to spend any unnecessary time near Minas Morgul than to bear again the burden of Gollum's company.

Thus it was with mixed feelings of thankfulness and disgust that the three greeted the return of Gollum, late in the day. He came snarling and whining at their foolishness and the nastiness of the men, but he lead them forward even as he complained.

* * *

Aragorn planted a standard, blank in the darkness before the black stone. The previous few days had been a blur of breathtaking action. The joy he and Gimli had felt at the return of Gandalf had been quelled only by their uncertainty as to the fate of their friends.

They had survived the treachery of Wormtongue and the battle for the Hornburg. And for the first time in his life he had been able to fight openly under his own name. The memories ran together; the long, nigh hopeless fight, the defeat of Saruman, the meeting with the hobbits. Gandalf fleeing with Pippin to Minas Tirith, his struggle with Sauron, the fruitless love of Eowyn and his joy at the sight of Elladan and Elrohir as well as the rangers. It felt odd, not having Legolas by his side, to sing and cheer and encourage him when his own hope ran low.

Truly he was on his own, this was his battle, a fight that he must fight alone to finally fulfill the destiny he had so long prepared for. Upon the plains of Gondor he would fight for country and lady, crown and people.

He owed it to all the scores of ancestors who would fought with no victory in sight, to Elrond and Gandalf and his other protectors, to his kingless people, to Arwen with whom he had renounced both shadow and twilight, to himself- to become the king that he had been born to be.

It was a chilling thought, but more chilling was his fear for three friends who sought an entrance to the black land, and the thought of them burned into his very soul and hardened his spirit unto mithril itself. Loudly and clearly he called upon the spirits of the faithless and such was the power given him that they fell obedient to his will.

And so, Aragorn son of Arathorn, Elfstone of his people rode on, to his destiny and the fulfillment of a great doom, bringing hope where hope had been forgotten.

* * *

They reached the Morgul Vale, at dusk the second day. Dark it lay and filled with lifeless light, lit by the undead dead.

Past meads of pale and deadly flowers they traveled on unto the road to the tower that had once been called the Rising Moon and fairer sister of that of the Setting Sun, but Minas Anor and Minas Ithil had both passed beyond recovery and now the Tower of the Guard and that of Sorcery stood opposed unto death.

Frodo stumbled as they crossed the ill-omened path. Horrified he felt himself pulled forward by a malevolent force. Unwilling, his feet stepped one before the other towards the tower shining evilly in the night.

There was the sound of a harsh and cruel horn.

The deadly doors opened wide in the ghastly distance.

Legolas darted forward and dragged him away as the army marched forth. Looking up he saw that the elf's eyes sparkled with unshed tears for he remembered the beauty of the fairest citadel in Gondor, shining bright under moon and star were now no living light touched.

They watched as that army passed, led by the Lord of the Nazgul, who once Legolas had shot down over the Anduin and who once he had defied for the sake of a child long dead. Who had stabbed Frodo at Weathertop and who Sam had watched uncloaked by Glorfindel of Gondolin and the power of Vilya, though he knew it not. Who had tortured Gollum until he spoke two fateful words.

The Wraith turned silently as though sensing the presence of enemies, his hideous steed drawing uncomfortably close to where they lay hidden.

The hobbits shrank beneath their elven cloaks while Gollum cowered shivering; desperately Legolas shook off his fear and silently mouthed an old song of concealing and hiding. Bending all his will to the task he wove comforting shadows about them, enfolding them in the warm and living meshes of elven power and the Nazgul turned back baffled.

Farther up they climbed, until the Morgul Vale lay far below in the dizzying distance, into which both Frodo and Sam refused to look.

And still they climbed, up stair after slippery stair, painful step upon painful step, Gollum ahead and Legolas behind, catching them when they stumbled and carrying them when they could go no further on sure and soundless feet.

A new darkness surrounded them, deepening the higher that they climbed. Legolas shuddered inwardly for he knew that darkness. It was the shadow of evil spiders, those who he had hunted in Mirkwood, those who had spun darkness in the hidden marches of Doriath, it was the darkness that had touched the world when Ungoliant spun her first hellish web.

Gollum knew it also, but he had no fear of it, Frodo and Sam remained oblivious and Legolas meant to keep them so if he could. And so he alone of them strode, wide-eyed to his fear into the ever-darkening malice that kept Cirith Ungol.

They reached the hole at last. And there they rested before daring the path that led them into Mordor. Only Gollum and Legolas remained awake, unblinking they sat before each other. The elf, his eyes bright with the wisdom and light of his immortal years, the hobbits held in the safety his guarding arms, strong and deadly. The twisted shape of the other, seemingly lost beyond recall to the light but watching the three unhappily, almost giving up on his treachery.

For a moment Legolas saw past the years of slavery and misery, and there sat an hobbit, weary and old beyond belief, looking longingly at his kin from beyond the years.

The moment passed and Gollum slipped away, to where even elven sight could not follow.

There was no dawn that day.

In darkness they entered greater darkness, only a slight light from Legolas showing them the way as they followed Gollum. Slowly they made their weary way ever closer to the land of dread. At last they came to a turning and Gollum slipped behind it before even Legolas could move to stop him.

His heart fell at last, for they were betrayed. Hoping against hope, he led them as swiftly as he could down the evil corridors until they passed a yawning gap in the wall. The hobbits halted under the spell of the evil mind and only the strength of an elven will turned their minds forward again.

Hearts lightened with the dreadful hole behind them, until they came to the web. Dark it was as starless night. Legolas' blade gleamed bright as it shore through the darkness and they passed, but too late.

Behind them the malice moved, intent now on such willful prey. The sweetness of elven flesh filling her mind, for years beyond count she had not trapped an elf, only stringy orcs and miserable prisoners.

"Run" Legolas called turning to face the menacing blackness. The hobbits hesitated and obeyed. Elven-bright in that gloom he stood as the Shelob leapt towards her prey.

* * *

Well, here we are, they are entering Mordor.

To Reviwers:

Guest: Oh yes, Frodo definitely has a tall elven warrior with his bright sword too! Part of the fun of writing this fic was going through and explaining away little mysteries that Tolkien left, like the elven rope coming undone.

Pip the Dark Lord of All: Thanks for the continuing support.

bella13446: I hope this chapter answers the question about Gollum.

Just A Reviewer: Yes, lots of surprise chapters today. Maybe even four. Ummm...the memory thing, that was my embellishment, the idea was that it was so overwhelming that they saw it without him realizing it. I will write the Tale of Cuthalion (since you like it so much) when the idea takes me (and probably tie it in with the original Cuthalion from the first age.) I must say I am curious to know what you think of the other "fairy tales".

Shire Rose


	8. Chapter 8 - Beyond all Mountains Steep

Chapter 8 – Beyond all Mountains Steep

He stood alone before her great bulk, a slender form, shining steadily in the darkness, strong and resilient beyond the reckoning of men. Shelob leapt at him, her mind afire, lusting for the taste of his warm elven blood.

It had been so long since she had satisfied this hunger, she would wait no longer. This dainty she would suck dry where he stood.

She sprang.

Legolas ducked beneath the cruel claws and stinger, turning he struck at her leg. Elven blade though it was, it sank only through the first layer of her hide and stopped. He halted for a moment surprised, for never yet had his blade been turned.

Only for a moment, swiftly he ducked again and threw himself between the whipping legs. He could not hope to kill the beast, but perhaps he could wound her enough that she would not be able to follow. Methodically, he fought, dodging her flailing limbs and stinger as the elven blades rose and fell, always upon her legs.

She gasped and bubbled with fury, the pain was little, no more than a stinging gnat to her leathern skin but the defiance irritated her beyond belief. She could not touch him, ever he dodged her stings and ever the blades rose and fell, needles upon her beloved body.

And still it dragged on as they penetrated ever deeper in the darkness.

"Legolas!"

The shout echoed eerily through the cavernous depths. It threw him slightly off balance, only dodging her last attack by a fraction of a second.

"Legolas! Help! Please!" the plea was desperate, panicked.

He dove beneath her once again, rolling out of reach of the claws, his healing shoulder jarring painfully against the rocks. Swiftly he turned and fled up the tunnel, which opened miraculously onto the open mountainside.

Gollum was nowhere in sight. Sam sat with Frodo laying limp in his arms, a gaping cut across his chest.

"Gollum" he sobbed miserably "Frodo stopped him from stabbing me."

Legolas bent down to inspect the wound, it was not fatal but bleeding badly.

He looked at Sam.

"He will live if I can stop the bleeding, but I need to concentrate on healing him and the spider is still alive. I could not kill her, take Sting and do what you can to keep her off of us should she appear."

Sam nodded fumbling with the scabbard as Legolas peeled back Frodo's bloodstained shirt. There was a sharp clink and a crystal phial fell to the ground. Legolas handed it to Sam.

"Keep it for him."

Gently he laid both hands upon the wound. A low bubbling noise sounded from the entrance of the cavern. Steadily it increased in volume until it was a low roar of anger and pain. Sam shook as he stared into the darkness but he kept Sting steadily pointing towards the noise.

Legolas watched approvingly and turned back towards Frodo; if he did not staunch the bleeding soon they would lose him.

Sam shuddered as the dark bulk emerged from the shadows, he risked a brief glance towards Legolas, but the elf was completely focused on the slowing flow of blood. It was working, Frodo would live. He turned back towards the darkness and his heart dropped, Legolas _could_ not help him, he was entirely on his own.

Grimly he held the sword before him, clutching the crystal phial, wondering he watched as light streamed through his fingers. Steadily it burned, flooding the path with clear radiance, white and pure as the stars.

Shelob stopped her advance as the burning light stung her bulbous eyes. Emboldened, Sam pressed forward the phial held aloft in one hand and Sting in the other gleaming under its rays.

But powerful as the light of Galadriel's phial was it held not the potency of the Silmaril and though it burned and stung her with its purity it could not hold her off forever.

Angered, burned and stabbed she rushed forward mad with rage. Sam swung wildly, missing her completely.

He slipped.

Down she bore upon the wounded hobbit and the elf that knelt there helpless, holding the fragile life within the other by the strength of his will alone.

Sam watched horrified as one of the barbed legs drew a line of blood upon the elf's arm. Summoning all his will and love for his friends he rolled painfully to his feet. And stabbed at her underbelly.

Her attention turned fully upon him and he quailed inwardly under the double pressure of her will and the stinking body that she thrust down on him.

Desperately he held Sting up as it fell with crushing malice. Straight upon that blade she pressed and though greater hand had wielded it none had the power to pierce the folded hide as her own malevolent will. Deep it bit, and she fell back shrieking undone by her own hatred.

Sam leapt away as her hulking bulk collapsed upon the path. He turned, and to his relief Frodo sat breathing and whole, save for a long scar upon his chest. Legolas stood his hands red from his efforts and the cut upon his arm.

"Quickly" he said as he cleaned them on a torn pack. "There are orcs approaching. We must leave at once."

Swiftly they gathered their scattered possessions and took up the packs, Legolas carrying both Frodo's and his own.

As they turned away all three heard a second sound that had escaped the sharp ears of the elf in his distraction.

They were trapped.

Around them the rocks rose, sharp and unassailable. Before and behind the harsh cries grew louder as the orcs closed in. The hobbits froze, pale and staring towards the narrow cleft wishing vainly for extra time.

Legolas' eyes darted about seeking for some cover, however slight. Behind them a small gap in the wall gave hope of hiding. Silently they crept inside, shielded beneath the cloaks of Lorien.

The orcs from behind entered first, snarling and loud as they found signs of the battle. One caught sight of Shelob and darted back squeaking with fright.

She lay still and motionless.

The three watched impatiently as finally approached the body…and froze as loud calls rocked the valley.

"A cursed elven blade." howled one "there is a filthy elf about!"

"Mighty by the look of it" cackled another "Stabbed _her_ himself and made off "

The tallest shouted loudly in the black speech and the others turned to listen. "Nahhh!" he yelled "The elf filth is still about. Spread out boys, find'em!"

Legolas turned to the hobbits, "I must fight them" he said simply "They expect an elf warrior, we must keep it that way. None must know that two hobbits have entered."

Frodo grabbed his arm "No!" he hissed.

"I am not giving myself up, Frodo" said the elf softly "I seek victory. However, should I fail, you _will not try to rescue me! _ Your mission is more important and must not be jeopardized. My fate is nothing to that of Middle Earth." he looked upon them sternly "Will you swear this to me?"

Slowly and reluctantly they nodded.

Soundlessly, he stole from the cave, inching behind the orcs shielded by both shadow and elven cloak until he was well away from the hiding place.

As with Galadriel's phial the hollow filled with white light as Legolas rose bright before his enemies. Gleefully, they leapt forward forgetting their search, for the elf they sought stood alone before them.

The great bow of the Galadhrim sang in his hands, as he sent a flight of arrows upon his foe. So swift were his movements that his hands were a shining blur to the hobbits as they watched.

The orcs howled as the arrows pierced them, a lone elf they had thought vulnerable and easily taken, an elf of the forest of shadow they had found, stern and mighty, a lone and deadly warrior.

"Cuthalion" one of them screeched "it's the elf of the great bow." Legolas winced as he heard the name, such fame was ill indeed in the hands of the enemy. One more nail in his coffin, or bonfire and dungeon as was more likely, a living death at the hands of his house's great foe.

He flung the bow carefully aside as his arrows were spent, drawing long white knives, glittering with a fell light as he swung them among the orcs. Ten lay died from his arrows and he hoped again as he bent and parried, twisting gracefully among his deadly enemies.

Frodo and Sam watched in awe as one knife stabbed behind him, the other arcing to meet a thrust from an orkish scimitar. Pivoting he crossed them, steel grating on the mithril as they held against biting blow. One darted away to vanish in an unprotected joint in the creature's armor. Again he turned, the blades weaving a silver net about his body.

Frodo smiled at Sam in the dark. Both had nearly given up hope of ever seeing the elf alive again. They had sworn that they would not interfere and for the sake of their task they would have kept the oath, but words and promises did little to ease their fear for the imminent loss of their friend. Now it seemed that there would be no loss, he had somehow managed to bring down nearly the entire pack, a score in all.

There were but two still alive now.

One fell. Only one more, praise Elbereth!

Two orcs stood against the elf. The hobbits blinked. The orc was joined by three more.

Legolas knew that he would not last long, deadly as he had been, he had used up much of his remaining strength in an effort to finish his enemies before they were reinforced. He had so little left to give, the long marches, the as yet, unhealed shoulder, the fight with the spider and the healing of Frodo had all taken their toll.

His eyes darted to where the hobbits lay hiding. Their eyes were mournful, despairing; they knew. He forced himself to smile, to brighten his eyes as he bid them farewell.

The look had lasted but a fraction of a second, but it had said everything necessary. Turning he threw himself back into the fray.

He would not die easily.

They watched as his knives slipped slightly and an orc blade bit his arm. He recovered in a moment but his blood had been spilt, it could not last.

His feet slipped and he staggered for but a moment. Red welled up again. He fought on, graceful and poised to the last but moving ever more slowly as his defenses were worn down.

They rushed him, a full score to drag him to his knees. And still, as the hobbits watched the slight form falter as it was overwhelmed by the black tide, his head was held high as he fell.

Weeping silent tears they heard the cruel comments and horrid threats, as he was bound and dragged back to his feet. His hands were wrenched behind his back and cord wound itself about the strong throat, a leash.

The orcs laughed and jeered, a legend, the horrible Cuthalion lay at their mercy.

He was alive and they were taking him to Bara-dur.

* * *

I am back (did you miss me?) after _two whole days_...two midterms and watching a youtube comedy miniseries made this late. However, _this _version is far better than the first one that I wrote. And _now _is when it really gets interesting. If you think that this is too far fetched, remember that Frodo most definitely would have been dragged to Bara-dur if the orcs had not conveniently killed each other off and left an easy path to Sam.

I am off to work, so responses to comments are lumped together. I am tired so I can't remember who I responded to and who I didn't in PMs.

Those of you who thought Legolas would kill Shelob...he could have worn her down eventually if he hadn't needed to help Frodo, he IS from Mirkwood. But I couldn't take away Sam's courage and so he does the final honors, though as Tolkien had it, only her own hate could actually drive a blade so deep.

On the fairy stories... glad you liked them, He..he I remember the days of Algebra...and PreCal and Calc. I forget that not everyone would know who Ted is (will insert note in story) basically he dislikes Sam and is one of the Shire-ruiners collaborating with Sharky.

Lastly, there will be flashbacks in Bara-dur...probably from my other stories (which are not AU) with some new material. Also, my "pen" moved faster than my brain in the bit about the Nazgul and the child... that was an accidental spoiler for _Hope oft is Born_.

In haste,

Shire Rose

The title is from Sam's song in the tower.


	9. Chapter 9 - The Light in the Darkness

Warning: This one of the darkest chapters of the story. I tried to not be too graphic, but people who defy Sauron to his face are not asked to have tea and biscuits, anything less would be horribly unrealistic.

Nota Bene: Hurin, Maedhros and Fingolfin are all characters from the Silmarillion, if you have question about them shoot me an email (address under my profile).

* * *

Chapter 9 – The Light in the Darkness

He woke in the darkness. It lay over him, robbing his eyes of all light. It draped itself suffocatingly over his face and his chained body, draining his strength and paralyzing his limbs.

It seeped into his heart and mind, alluringly, inviting him to enter it, to find peace and repose within its embrace.

He tried to shake it off, but it only slide away like water upon oil and returned to tempt again.

Frantically, he strove to clear his mind. He had, fortunately little memory of his journey for what he did remember was not pleasant.

They had bound him hand and foot and one, cleverer than the others had thought to sedate him, lest even tied as he was he should try to escape. Chuckling wickedly the others had watched as his own blade was loaded with the venom of the dead spider and driven into his right arm.

He had fallen helplessly paralyzed, slightly conscious still but wholly unable to move, trapped within his own body.

His last chance of escape had flown far away, to the West were hope yet remained and it was for that hope that he fought now, for he knew without a doubt that he would not survive this.

His body would be torn for the amusement of the dark lord, and his spirit would be free to join those others who had fallen in a good cause while his body lay unburied and forever lost, unless Sauron thought to send his mutilated remains to his father.

He shivered, he could not dwell on such things or what hope he had would be lost to him.

He was suddenly grateful to the providence that had made him prince of the darkest of the elven realms. He had often wondered unhappily what he had done to deserve the pain and sorrow he had often endured but now he was glad.

For he was not of the protected woods or the valley. Hardship and pain and torment he had learnt to endure, to defy the darkness in the watches of the night and as the sun rose. He was no untried warrior or sheltered prince, he had fought it for centuries as the world grew darker and he would not falter now.

* * *

He heard the harsh and heavy stompings of the orcs as they came for him. They chuckled wickedly as the clanking of metal reached his ears. Silently he stood, still somewhat unsteady even hours after the spider venom had worn off.

He closed his eyes as he tried to prepare his mind for what was to come. They could only douse his spirit if he let them and he was determined to never let that happen. With what dignity he could muster he stood shakily upon his weakened and bound legs and prayed for the strength to face what was to come.

He was, he admitted to himself completely terrified. He had faced torture and the threat of death before this and he would endure it as silently as he could but he could not shake the fear of it. He feared the physical pain that Sauron's servants were so expertly capable of, he feared the sorrow of his father and sister should he learn of his son's unhappy end, he feared that he would never sail to Valinor with his family nor find the helpmate ordained to share his heart.

But above all else he feared giving in, of betraying the trust of his friends in the depths of his agony and thus handing Arda over to Sauron and forfeiting all right to the peace of Mandos.

He knew that it would take a long time and great torment before he would even contemplate such thoughts but he was also realistic. Sauron was a servant of Morgoth who had twisted the first elves into orcs and he had an unlimited amount of time to use any of his knowledge on Legolas.

Who long could he hold out in the face of unimaginable barbarity and the sheer will power of a Maia, fallen or not?

He thought back to the old stories of the first age, of Hurin who had endured the worst of Morgoth's ire for years, unbroken, of Maedhros, hung from his wrist upon the peaks of Angbond, of Fingolfin who had fought the monster single-handed and died.

If a man and one of the sons of Feanor could defy Morgoth, surely he of the house of Orophor could deny his servant.

The grate was flung open and he breathed a last prayer for strength.

_Saes.  
__Iluvater, creator of Arda and all life grant me the strength to deny Sauron any hold over my soul. Elbereth grant me thy light, Manwe, thy wisdom. I ask not for myself but for those whom he would have me betray, I beg you by the pure light of the stars and the free winds, by the green life of Yavanna, do not let me fail. I ask not for freedom, or a painless death or that this agony might be spared me, I ask only for strength of mind, that Arda does not succumb to the darkness._

The chains about his wrists and ankles clanked loudly as they dragged him out, stumbling from weakness and the aftereffects of the venom. To the dark top of Barad-dur they lead him, the darkness and evil about him growing ever thicker and more suffocating until he felt that he could reach out and touch it.

But though the darkness lay heavy, his heart lightened with the answer to his prayer. He was not alone, with faith and love and hope, he stood upon the side of the light and it would not forsake him as long as he hoped on.

Upon the highest level of the tower they stopped before a great door of iron. Black it was, fashioned by a masterful hand into writhen shapes of death and torment. The sense of evil that poured behind its glowing hinges was so potent that Legolas felt himself stagger under its weight.

Within, the dark lord waited, the great eye, black as endless night and ringed by flame, slit-pupiled and horrifying in his dark power.

He had not had one of the eldar within his power for many long years. He thought delightedly of the torment that they could endure, when a man would die of agony and hopelessness they would endure, their vitality and strength forcing them to endure the greater pain.

Greedily the gaze of the eye flicked towards the great door, hungry in his lust for the despair and pain that he wielded. They were all so stubborn at first, but that made their end only more amusing and pathetic.

This one had earned his wrath, Cuthalion he was called by the orcs that survived Mirkwood.

Strongbow.

The perfect target for his swollen rage, for his plans had been pulling apart of late. The cursed appearance of the heir of Isildur and _the_ sword, reforged and blazing with light. And now this, one of the cursed race of elves running freely about his land. The flames that wreathed about him flared dangerously as his servants ran forward to open the great doors.

They swung open and a pure light filtered in. Sauron could have screamed with the pain of it, pure and stainless, blessed by Eru. Into the darkness and dull flames stepped a figure. Bound by chain and rope, his face lined by pain and weariness but still fair and defiant in his light.

Golden-hair spilled over his shoulders, golden as an elf that had ages past stood likewise bound but unconquered to the end. Nobility shone from his bruised face and there was strength and power in his spirit.

A mocking voice echoed eerily about the room, harsh and menacing, laden with millennia of impotent rage.

"Your name, spawn of Mirkwood." it called

"Legolas Thranduilion of the Greenwood" he responded his voice clear and defiant, it was little use trying to hid his identity from the maia, his strength would be better spent on greater battles. Perhaps he would believe that the prince was a spy for his father.

It was not to be.

"Cuthalion" it hissed "The prince, one of the Nine Walkers, a meddler who thought to escape me my own land." it mocked, "Fool"

Legolas said nothing.

"You will fail as did your friends before you. But no clean death in battle shall you receive, agony and long years of torment, until even you can no longer see yourself in your twisted limbs and in the tattered remnants of your mind, shall be your lot. Fool, to think that you could stand before me."

Cruel and cold were the words upon his ears, deliberate and utterly unescapable.

"Tell me where the halfing has left the ring and your pain shall be eased, a quick death will be granted you."

The prince summoned all his will power to look unblinking into the horror that was the great eye.

"You have bound my body and can do what you like with it" he said as calmly as he could, "but my spirit you cannot fetter. Do not seek news of your treasure from me, servant of Morgoth."

Inwardly he quailed as the flames sprang higher and the shadows crept closer encroaching on his light.

"Bound your body is and bound your spirit shall be, foolish little one." called the voice, wrathful and deadly.

Legolas ignored the warning, "Bound my spirit will not be, for it holds the light of Eru Iluvater and none shall take it from me. Torment and death you promise me and torment and death I will endure, for I will defy you to my last breath.

Though I die, you also will fall, your power crumble like sand between your fingers, bound to the void like your master will you be, as it was ordained the hour that you fell from light into darkness."

The very darkness flinched before the name of the One. Legolas knew that he would pay dearly for his defiance, but little could be worse than what Sauron intended for him and he, chained though he was he would fight. His knives were taken and so he used the only weapon left, he would defy Sauron with words until his dying breath or his tongue was torn from his mouth.

He shuddered inwardly at that very real threat. Swiftly he pushed it away, his days were shadowed enough without his imagination showing him evil images.

They threw him forward at their master's command, for he would broke the proud and defiant stance of the golden-haired elf no more.

His bound hands were pulled up over his head and chained, agonizingly high off the ground so that his entire weight rested upon the slim wrists. His body was screaming at him and his jaw was clenched in pain.

They left him.

In the darkness and flame, naked before the fury of the lidless eye, his mind quailed under the horror of it and he fought desperately, a two-front war against mental and physical assault. They had taken his tunic and the cold stone froze his back. His wrists were bleeding and swollen, his feet nerveless as Sauron reached towards his mind, to bring it under his control.

Silently, he fought it, refusing to open his mouth as he hung in pain.

He could not tell how long he was chained there, for he had lost track of time in the long hours of darkness. When they finally cut him down he collapsed on the ground, shivering with cold and weariness, dried blood snaking down his bare arms.

Again he was dragged forward without rest or reprieve, only the strength of eldar keeping him conscious and even alive. Now they chained his hands before him as the lidless eye watched sleeplessly, reveling in his suffering.

"Cuthalion" it called again, caressing the edges of his agonized mind "Archer of Mirkwood, tell me what I desire."

Mutely he shook his head, not trusting himself to speak.

"Cuthalion you will be no more, dupe of Gandalf and Elrond. What hope have you of defying me forever, immortal? What strength could you hope to possess?"

The orcs cackled as they closed on him.

"Archer" they laughed. "Strongbow" His right hand was seized and he trembled as they spread out the fingers. He held himself still with an effort as one took his little finger in its teeth, biting as it bent it backwards.

He nearly screamed as it snapped. Another took the next finger. He closed his eyes and went rigid as he waited for the pain to pass, for them to grow weary of their sport.

They did not. Again and again, they bent his hand in on itself, until it lay shattered and bloated, unrecognizably twisted and unbearably painful.

He had screamed once, near the end, when one had taken the hand between its paws and smashed it together until the broken bones grated upon each other.

He would never shoot another arrow.

He was only thankful that they had done nothing yet to his left hand. They pulled him down the twisting stairs and again they chained him to the wall, by his right wrist only, leaving him to the darkness and the unrelenting pain.

Distant memories touched his consciousness as he hung there.

_A young elf sprinted lightly across the bright grass in a beautiful forest. A beautiful elleth was seated on a low bench among the roses. The child ran towards her, laughing in the warm sunlight as he flung himself into her arms. _

_They sat together, as he told her of his latest archery contest. She smiled down at him as he chattered merrily, full of pride at the praise of the archery master._

_She held him in her arms as they sang into the dying sun, his young voice clear and free as the spring breezes, her's as strong and pure as driven snow, high and bright as the winter sun._

_She leant over and kissed his golden head, her dark hair mingling with his shining locks._

_Her face faded into darkness…_

He was alone in the dark once more, weeping silently. He would see her soon, even an elven body could not long endure this level of pain.

_The wail of an infant pierced the darkness. _

_A newborn lay in her white arms, her tiny mouth open. Two golden-haired elves stood beside her, nearly identical. The younger leant forward, the infant's tiny hand wrapping around his little finger._

_He grinned down at her, opening his eyes wide. The little mouth puckered and she cooed softly, her grey eyes twinkling in the starlight._

"_Erynel" he said softly looking up at his parents. _

_His mother smiled and he opened his arms invitingly as his sister settled into them happily. Her eyelids fluttered and closed half-way as he rocked her gently, her slight weight upon his right arm._

_Again the dream shifted and the weight dragged on his arm. _

He blinked in the darkness, gasping with pain. His weight was hanging on his right wrist, sending excruciating fire up his arm.

But the memory of the his family stayed with him and his heart was the lighter for it.

* * *

Far in the distance, in a dark hollow, Frodo woke trembling. Sam rushed over to him worried.

"Mister Frodo?"

Frodo turned wet grey eyes on his friend.

"Legolas" he whispered "I saw him."

Sam's eyes widened in horror.

"They broke his hand and fingers and chained him. He was singing in the dark." Sam nodded blinking furiously and as they looked up, the dark clouds parted a little and far above, a single white star shone through the darkness.

* * *

Well, here it is and much longer. There about three chapters left. Before anyone asks...Tolkien has Frodo have prophetic dreams (he sees Gandalf escaping Saruman) so I don't think that his dream is too far fetched. Remember I am exploring how other people's choice would be changed by Legolas' actions.

Responses to Reviews:

29-pieces-of-me: That is high praise indeed. Thank you. Well, now you know how he fares...not well.

Pip The Dark Lord of All: Updated! Don't die. Next chapter tomorrow.

WoodElfJedi: I keep telling you guys, I will NEVER kill off a canon character (even in an AU) without labeling it tragedy. Keep in mind that _A Cruel Welcome _is set after this, and draw what conclusions you can from that.

bella13446: Hmmm...I _still_ dislike the portrayal of Frodo at the end of the movie, hence I am basing my story off the book.

Guest: Ummm...sorry but this story was kind of built around the idea that he gets captured. What do you mean again? Don't worry he won't be irreparably damaged. :)


	10. Chapter 10 - By the Grace of the Valar

Warning: Again this is still rather dark (Bara-dur is called the dark tower for a reason), but I am not going to be super graphic, since I dislike that kind of stuff.

* * *

Chapter 10 – By the Grace of the Valar

Legolas sat up painfully as his pleasant dream faded away, he was surprised that he had been left alone for so long. However, he was profoundly gratefully to whatever vala was responsible for the respite, for although his spirit was still strong his body had been near collapse.

As he sat a pale light shone through a chink in the wall. He pulled himself to his feet and pressed his eye to it. Far above, between ragged shreds of cloud and mist, a single star looked down upon him.

It was the most beautiful sight of his long life, an answer to his wordless pleas for light in the deepening darkness.

He settled back against the wall so that he could see the radiance for as long as it remained, and even after it faded it gave him hope. He thought of his friends, the Fellowship beneath that same light and wondered how they fared, of his father and sister, faraway in Mirkwood and his mother who he had thought to see soon.

With renewed hope, his strength returned slowly, for he did not wish to perish here unless there was no help for it. For the sake of his friends, his family and himself, he would fight to remain alive, for he was not yet weary of Middle Earth. He wished to see it shadow-free and fair, to watch his friends marry and dandle their children. To see his sister, a mother and hold his nephews and nieces as he had once held her.

He desired life with a passion.

He found his cast-off tunic in one of the corners and slipped it on, trying not to look at his damaged hand. There was little he could do for any of his injuries save gather up his strength and trust them to heal. But his hand, his hand was alas, beyond any skill that he knew of. He could but hope that they would not re-break it yet again, though he doubted that his wish would be fulfilled.

He was sleeping lightly when he heard it.

A shrill shriek of pain and malice born upon the wind in its last despair. Bara-dur strained under the anger of its master, the walls shifting dangerously, the tiny crack vanishing as though it had never been.

* * *

Far away to the West, the sun shone free and bright as the men of Gondor and Rohan rejoiced at the fall of the Witch-King. A young maiden, fair and pale lay like a broken lily upon the field while beside her, Merry of the Shire blinked at the sun.

The tide had turned and the sun shone upon their swords as a new ally joined the fray. Upon the wings of the wind they came, Aragorn, leading them through peril and out of forgotten legends. Over the black ships, the banner of the tree and the stars, silver fire against black glinted in the sun.

They came driving all before them, the rightful king and his kin, the Dunedain of the North, Elladan and Elrohir of Rivendell and Gimli the Dwarf, while behind them the dead swept spreading dread among the servants of the dark lord.

Sauron watched, his rage boiling over as he saw his great plans once again confounded. His wrath was boundless, not for some affection to the Lord of the Wraiths or his dead armies, but for his defeat. Deep it rankled, as he ordered his men to bring the captive before him.

* * *

Legolas waited in the dark all unknowing of the great victory of his friends. He knew only that a great evil had perished and he sang softly of joy and love and hope beyond the power of evil. He sang on even as he heard the heavy steps approaching.

He knew that it was likely that he was going to bear the brunt of Sauron's anger for whatever had occurred but he simply could not forget the peace that had flooded his mind with the dying of that cry. The men stopped outside the iron grate, listening in growing astonishment at the sound that filtered through the stones. Legolas' voice was far harsher than normal but still fair and pure.

The men in Sauron's service had left behind such things long ago when they had first fallen into the darkness. Some, ensnared by their lust for power, others captured unwitting and succumbing to the force of the dark lord's will.

The song stung them, reminding them of far gone times, when they had been happy and free, it twisted their hearts within them and fought with the darkness in their souls, imparting untold pain. Wrathfully they threw the grate open and seized the elf, gagging him so that they might not be pained by his voice.

They led him to a different room this time, so small that the flames of the lidless eye nearly filled it.

Again he stood before him.

His spirit had hardened, the long hours of peace in the darkness had strengthened him and though he did not wish to hasten his punishment he was no longer utterly hopeless. He had fought the pain before, with a strength born of his desperation. Now, he stood calm in mind and body, determined to endure whatever the fallen maia had in store for him.

Sauron's anger filled the room, his disembodied voice striking the walls and roaring back shrieking as Legolas was forced to his knees before the throne. He fought as well as he could, bound and bleeding that he was, but his face was calm and his eyes serene.

"You see the folly of defying me, prince. Spare yourself further suffering." it coaxed as the men removed the gag that bound him in enforced silence.

Legolas laughed, the clear sound echoing sweetly about the tower, startling all who heard it.

"Seek news of your trinket elsewhere, Annatar." he said scornfully, "I see that you have failed in some great undertaking and will take your anger out upon me whether I aid or thwart you. My answer remains unchanged."

The walls reflected the deadly light as the flames flared outwards, holding the prince within their embrace for a moment. He gasped in agony as they withdrew leaving him trembling upon the burning floor. His face was twisted in pain, his skin seared by the evil fire, though his resolve remained unchanged, hope he held and for hope he would defy the fires of Orodruin itself.

Slowly, he raised his smarting face and stared up rebelliously.

* * *

They left him alone less and less as the days dragged by, and still he clung to his hope. In the endless night he dreamed of spring anddays filled with laughter before the ending of the Watchful Peace.

_Elladan and Elrohir ran forward as Legolas entered the courtyard, their dark hair streaming behind them. Upon the steps, Elrond and Celebrian stood, a tiny elf maid between them. Her shadowy hair hung to her hips and her eyes were grey and shining. _

"_Arwen" called the twins running back for her "come greet our guest." Elladan swung her up in his arms as the prince strode forward. A clear laugh rang out as Elrohir stole her from his brother and brought her smiling before Legolas. He bowed and kissed the tiny hand._

"_My lady" he whispered into her delicate ear "Your wish is my command"_

_She curtsied back, "Anything that I wish?"_

"_Within bounds of reason. I promise."_

_She waved him goodbye as he left for the Greenwood later in the month._

"_By careful, my Lasse" she called, her girlish voice carried upon the wind, as he turned back to bid his gwathel farewell._

Surely Lorien himself, sent him aid in the dark watches of the night, for he never failed to wake, refreshed and hopeful, while Sauron wondered angrily at his inability to move the elf. After the first day he had never wrung another cry of pain from the stubborn creature, no matter what he ordered done to him.

* * *

The men of the West marched swiftly into the shadow of the east, driven by a urgent feeling of haste. Before all rode Gandalf and Aragorn, the elven twins beside them.

"Some evil has shadowed my heart for many days" said Elladan the night before they came to the black gate.

"As it has mine, also" said Elrohir and Aragorn together. Gandalf looked at them, fear in his eyes.

"You have some measure of foresight" he muttered, his keen eyes upon the three, "yet I do not feel that the ring has been recovered, we would surely know."

They discussed ideas and plans until the dawn broke, while two hobbits climbed ever nearer to the cracks of doom and a fair elven prince lay flung in a tangled heap of bruises and welts before the throne of the dark lord.

They marched on into the day, drawing ever nearer to the Land of Shadow.

They stood small and wearied before the Black Gate, but proud and strong. Fair and defiant, their horns rang out as Aragorn called upon Sauron to render justice for the wrongs he had committed.

And the Black Gate swung open.

* * *

Nota Bene: Gwathel means sworn/foster sister, obviously the flashback is set before Erynel was born.

To Reviewers:

bella13446: Definitely not, most of my friends think the same. I am sorry to say that the word heart wrenching fills me with an unholy pride.

Pip the Dark Lord of All: _You were almost crying? _I really should feel bad about that, but I can't...

bettsam0731: Ohhh...he will shoot again. There is always a handy maia called Gandalf :)

gginsc: Gollum will die, Sauron will fall...but NOT Legolas. I refuse to kill him!

Just A Reviewer: Ahhhh, I don't normally get this angsty...but sometimes its necessary. Oh yes, the Valar don't come swooping in to throw Bara-dur down, but they do care about Middle Earth. Nope, no permanent damage...thank heaven for elven healing.

Guest: Don't worry, I am anything but annoyed. In fact I totally agree with you, in general. I have been trying to skirt the captured by orcs routine...  
Of course it was kind of necessary for this but this is the only time I've done it, however, I tried to make the main conflict with Sauron. Hmmmm...I can't promise he will take out all of Bara-dur...but he won't be entirely helpless either. I hate Legolas-recovers-for-several-months fics.

Yes, he fights in the battle before the Black Gate.

I should get the next chapter up tomorrow...

Shire Rose


	11. Chapter 11 - The Passing of the Shadow

The Passing of the Shadow

The black gate opened as they watched and a vile twisted man-shape rode forward laughing as he looked upon the host that stood there, for their numbers were pitiful against the might of orcs and men that stood with him. And yet he stood as if uncertain for moment, for among that host were many whose names had passed into legend.

Then he laughed as he saw Aragorn and Gandalf stand forth from the host to speak with him.

"Surrender Men of the West and deluded allies" he rasped "for whatever errand you had in Mordor has failed and our prisoner awaits the bidding of tower."

Gandalf went rigid and shut his eyes, thinking for Frodo. For all his hopes and fears had come to the end that he feared above all others. He had sent a trusting child to face the Sauron in all his wrath.

Aragorn and the others looked at each other, for the herald, if so he could be called, had spoken of but a single prisoner. Horrible as the thought of even one of their friends held captive was it seemed that at least two remained free. Gandalf sighed and his eyes were dark and unmeasurably sorrowful as he turned upon the emissary of the dark lord.

"Who is this prisoner you speak of and what should we know of him?" demanded Gandalf.

"Gandalf of the tangled webs" hissed the messenger, "you should not have ventured so far from your lair for you will perish here with you tag-taggle army and token king as do all who oppose the might of the Lord of Bara-dur. You ask of whom we hold, do you recognize these tokens?"

And to the dismay and astonishment of all he held on high a great bow and twin knives wrought of mithril and ivory and lastly a brooch like in kind to those of Lorien but fashioned in the likeness of single leaf of beech. The Mouth of Sauron looked upon their stricken faces and laughed.

"So you knew of his going. How kind of your leader to send us such a gift, the prince of the Greenwood, no less. A lord among the eldar at the mercy of Barad-dur. It seems that he was dear to you, perhaps he might yet be saved before his condition worsens."

The company stared in horror, they had feared that Sam or Frodo was the prisoner but that Legolas might be captive had not entered their darkest dreams. It was relieving that the hobbits remained still in dubious safety, but they dreaded what price their friend had paid for it.

Swallowing his horror and misery Aragorn answered in a lifeless voice.

"Let us see this prisoner and if he still be among the living for we will not treat for a corpse."

The column of orcs parted as a slender shape was kicked to the ground before them. The hosts of the West looked down aghast for the bleeding figure staggered up and they saw that he was an elf, his clothing bloodstained and torn and his golden hair hacked roughly about his ears. He lifted his head painfully but to the wonder of all his eyes were clear and bright and full of hope.

"Legolas" whispered Aragorn miserably under his breath, "What have they done to you?"

The Mouth of Sauron turned his attention to the Men of the West.

"Here is your answer, know now the terms."

And he outlined a truce that would give all Arda into the grasp of Sauron. When he finished he looked at them expectantly.

There was a scream from the horde of orcs and suddenly Legolas was on his feet shouting desperately in elvish

"_Gar-Estel_" he called "_All is not lost. Delay your answer whatever the consequences. Saes…_" and his voice and form were lost amid the cluster of orcs.

The captains of the West looked at each other with renewed hope for it seemed that Frodo and Sam were indeed still free and undetected and needed time to complete their task. And yet as they watched the elf fall beneath the rough hands it seemed a high price indeed.

Quietly, they discussed their choices.

Gandalf stood forward again "We will need some time to consult the leaders of the free peoples" he said, his calm voice belaying his sorrow at the sight of Legolas, "it may take some hours before we reach our decision."

"And yet" returned the other "The prince may not have some hours, I suggest that you reach your conclusion quickly for, for every minute that you delay you add a lash to his back ."

And he signed to his followers that the prince should be bound in view of the host as they stood watching. They stood together sadly, trying not to see the condition of the prince, for now within their sight he looked ill indeed.

Eomer turned his face away in disgust at the cruelty of Sauron.

"How can he beg for us to watch him tortured and yet keep hope?" he asked, looking with both admiration and wonder at the serene face of the elf as the orcs threw him roughly to the ground.

"Do elves not feel pain as men do?"

"They do" replied Imrahil gravely "Some believe that their sense is actually heightened but the stories of the strength of elves are no exaggeration and Legolas is a prince. He will die before he gives in to them."

Aragorn said nothing but stood with his jaw clenched never turning his eyes from his friend.

"He is buying time for the hobbits " said Gandalf, looking into the agonized eyes of the king "It is perhaps the last gift he can give us, we can only accept it in the spirit in which it is given. Well has he served the Fellowship."

The hour dragged by slowly and still they stood "deliberating" as the elf prince lay stretched upon the ground, flogged with the precision and mercilessness of a clock. And still he made no sound though most could hear his breathing becoming shallow and ragged in the deadly stillness. At last Pippin could bear it no longer and he turned to Gimli and Aragorn.

"Do something, please" he begged, "We can't watch them kill him. Stop it please." Gimli and Aragorn turned anguished faces upon him but shook their heads.

The great orc that stood above the prince laughed as he brought a whip with shards of metal and glass braided clumsily throughout its length upon the bound figure below him. As Pippin watched the elf shuddered, his jaw clenching tightly against the agony but the only noise he gave was strangled gasp. And in that moment something deep within Pippin snapped and he rushed forward his small dagger flashing in the sun.

He ignored the panicked cries and the horrified look that Legolas shot him and swinging it up he brought it down in the startled orc's heart. Quickly he turned and slashed through the elf's bonds as the host of the West leaped forward to save them.

"Aure entuluva! Day will come again!" they cried as they swept forward to meet the orcs.

The prince staggered to his feet as Gandalf with a sudden burst of white light wrenched the tokens from the foul messenger's grasp.

Legolas looked down at Pippin, he was standing but was clearly in pain, Pippin wasn't sure how he was standing at all; his clothes were a bloody mess and his hair was streaked with red, his face and arms covered with layers upon layers of bruises, cuts and burns and his right hand was misshapen and deformed. Somehow he still looked fair and noble and Pippin looked up in awe remembering the kindly companion of the early days of the fellowship and all that he had endured upon this quest. As he stood staring he forgot the battle that swirled around him and only a sharp cry from the elf saved him from death upon an orc blade.

Gandalf had made his way to where they stood, his unveiled light sending the orcs cowering from him. Legolas looked at him, wonder and joy swallowing his pain.

"You have returned to us unlooked for, Mithrandir" he said, "My heart is lightened."

"Well done _tithen ernil_" said Gandalf smiling as Legolas scowled, "Take back what is yours" and he handed him the tokens.

Legolas leaned forward, "They were safe and headed towards the mountain when we parted. None know that they have entered save Gollum."

Gandalf smiled slightly and with that both turned to the battle that raged about them, fighting their way towards Aragorn and the rest.

Legolas fought as he had never fought before, a rush of adrenaline giving him strength that he had not realized existed. He fought furiously, intent upon reaching his friend, thanking the Valar for the blessing of sleep the night before.

All about surged orcs and those men that had allied themselves to the dark lord. Still they did not falter even as great trolls appeared converging upon them. Nearby Pippin could see the banner of Arwen beneath which stood Aragorn swinging Anduril with effortless grace, beside him fought the twin sons of Elrond stars upon their brows, wielding long shining elven blades, fighting as one.

A little beyond stood Eomer and Imrahil fighting valiantly while the banners of the white horse and the silver swan mingled in the wind. Upon the other side Gandalf fought, Glamdring shining with fierce white light. Next to him stood Legolas and Gimli. Pippin gaped; Gimli seemed normal, grimly happy that the elf had returned.

But Legolas, Legolas was shining with the light of the firstborn standing fully revealed in all the majesty of elven royalty. Looking at him none would know that he had been lying bleeding upon the ground shortly before. He wielded a gleaming elven blade in his left hand for the right was useless and the orcs fled before his face, for he had stood before their master and defied him and yet lived.

But his hope died away as he saw the great tide of evil before him, swelling unstoppably as an ocean upon the unprotected shore. And many shrank as Nazgul swept down crying with fell voices. Down they came but from where Gandalf stood a pure light shone brightly. Hope rose anew as they fell away baffled, for Elladan and Elrohir sprang forward to stand with Gandalf and Legolas and the light shone brighter as the three elves stood about the Maia.

Far above them Pippin's eyes turned, even as he slashed and cut and seeing eagles called out, "The eagles are coming, the eagles are coming!"

* * *

Frodo and Sam stared down into the seething and molten streams below. Here at last they stood upon the cracks of doom. Slowly Frodo drew the ring forth from under his tunic.

It hung golden and gleaming, perfect in its glorious smoothness, peerless and fair. The golden band called to him as it had never done before, its potency and power fully revealed.

For a moment, to Sam's bewilderment he stood entranced in its power. Slowly, his hand reached for it.

_Legolas lay stretched upon the jagged earth before the black gate. His clothing was shredded and torn, his body disfigured. One hand hung limp and dangling in its bounds, twisted beyond recognition._

_Suddenly he looked up and his bleeding lips formed a faint smile, his eyes bright._

_In the distance a small army stood defiantly. Aragorn and Gandalf stood at the head. He caught a glimpse of Pippin and Gimli. Their eyes were red and they seemed to be struggling to look upon some horrible sight._

_He turned back, over the elf stood a monstrous orc, his mouth twisted into a loathsome grin as he flogged the prince._

_Frodo shivered at the thought, and suddenly with perfect clarity, he understood._

_Legolas was buying them time, and paying for it with every drop of blood the whip tore from his back._

The vision faded into nothingness and he looked with disgust upon the ring in his hand. Every moment that he had stood, lusting for it, the elf had cheerfully and without rancor or stint offered his agony for their protection.

He drew his hand back and threw it forward, calling upon the name of Elbereth.

It hung motionless and perfect for a moment above the flames as a tormented cry rang out in the cave. Gollum pushed them aside in his desperation, launching himself at it, he missed his precious by an inch, and then both were falling helplessly below.

* * *

Baffled below and attacked above the eight faltered and suddenly turned swifter than wind and fled back towards their doom. The armies of Mordor faltered in their charge and enheartened the men of the West surged forward.

"Stay Men of the West!" called Gandalf, "For now is the hour of doom!"

And as they stood a great noise arose and the great gates were flung down in ruin and the mountains slide in and about them all that had been wrought by the ring withered and perished. Legolas looked at him smiling, and froze his face grave.

"Frodo and Sam" he whispered to the wizard, "Go save them quickly." Gandalf nodded and called to the eagles.

* * *

When Sam awoke he lay in comfort below a blue sky and green leaves. For a moment his memory faltered and then seeing Frodo laying to the side, he remembered. He looked up and seeing the leaves wondered about the friend that bore their name. He remembered the look on the elf's face as he bid them flee for the sake of Middle Earth and he wept as he saw again the slight form faltering beneath the tide of orcs as he and Frodo watched in horror.

They had won against all odds but three of the fellowship had fallen, first Gandalf then Boromir and lastly Legolas, for they had heard the orcs, they had been ordered to bring the prince before the dark lord and he had no doubt fallen as bravely as he had lived. _I have to tell them_ he thought.

And as he thought a white figure entered the room. He rubbed his eyes, but it remained.

"Gandalf!" he cried in delighted astonishment.

"Yes, little one." said the wizard smiling,"the quest has been fulfilled, the thanks of Middle Earth is due to you and Frodo."

Sam remembered his dismal thought.s

"And Legolas" he said sadly "Oh, Gandalf, you don't know how much he helped. They captured him."

He flung his arms about Gandalf "They were taking him to Barad-dur! They killed him!"

"No quite, master Sam" said a merry voice that he had been sure he would never hear again.

He turned amazed eyes towards the voice, and lo, there stood Legolas shinning faintly even in the light of day, merry grey eyes fixed upon the hobbit, though there were fading bruises upon his face and his right hand was securely wrapped.

"H…ho…how?" stuttered the hobbit.

"A long story, Sam." said the elf his smile twisting slightly, as a shadow of pain passed across his eyes, "but that is a tale for another time, at the moment it is enough that darkness as fallen and we have all survived."

Sam looked at Gandalf after he left singing softly.

"Will you tell me everything Gandalf?" he asked.

"Yes, please tell us, he will never tell us himself" chimed in Frodo who had awoken "He was horrified when Gollum told about the orcs that captured him."

"What?" asked Gandalf.

Sam laughed "I guess he didn't tell even you everything."

Gandalf shook his head in mock frustration. But their laughter died as Gandalf told what he knew of the tale and they guessed what was not told.

"Gandalf I thought you told us that none could stand before the dark lord and survive?" asked Sam.

"So, I did Samwise" returned the wizard "But happily it seems I was mistaken."

Frodo frowned, "Seems unfair, everyone is calling us heroes, but he let himself be taken to the tower and defied Sauron himself to save us, and no one even knows."

Gandalf smiled gently "Your own task was not easy Frodo, you and Sam deserve all the praise you are getting. As for Legolas, that is his way. He will keep the tale from everyone he can, but those who should know will be told." he winked.

* * *

That night the fellowship sat exchanging stories and laughing, happy at being reunited.

"See Master Dwarf" said Legolas laughing "I said that we should meet again and that the evil would surely perish."

"True, Master Elf" retorted Gimli "But even you must have doubted at times."

The elf's laugh died and he nodded "True, there was a time when all hope seemed to fail, but though I did not believe that I would see you again, I knew that Frodo and Sam would do all they could to destroy the ring." he turned to the two hobbits, smiling gently.

"There is light, even in the greatest darkness, if you only seek for it."

"When was that?" asked Merry, who had arrived several days earlier and knew little of Legolas' share in end of Sauron.

"As I stood, alone and chained before the might of Sauron" replied the elf softly, "I did not think that I would ever see the light of stars or the green grass or the blue of the sky, but you gave me the strength that I needed. All of you did, Aragorn, Gimli, Frodo, Merry, Pippin, Sam" he smiled fondly "Gandalf and Boromir though I thought them both dead. The company is strong beyond the understanding of Sauron."

And with that he fell silent and after that night none of that company ever heard him speak freely upon that time again.

"Do you still think your father will be angry?" asked Sam, hoping to lighten the mood.

Aragorn laughed "Angry? He will be furious, Legolas will have a lot to explain."

He looked at the elf, "I believe I will come along simply to see him react to the knowledge that you were brought before Sauron himself."

Legolas scowled at his friend, "I hardly had a choice" he muttered under his breath.

Suddenly he laughed, seeing several stunned and rather worried faces. "Don't worry" he explained "It is an old joke between us." he glanced at Sam and Frodo who looked horrified, "I was teasing about the dungeons."

"Strider" asked Frodo suddenly "Please tell us all of Legolas' nicknames. He said he had more than you and we only know a couple."

"Very well" laughed the ranger shooting his friend an amused smile.

"It may take several decades" he continued "But I shall try. Which do you know?"

"Legolas" said Pippin.

Everyone laughed.

"Thranduilion" said Frodo remembering Legolas' oath.

"Cuthalion" called Sam.

Aragorn laughed "How did you get that out of him?"

Frodo smiled, "He gave us a hint by accident and we guessed!"

"Greenleaf" said Merry hopefully.

Frodo gave him a look "That is Legolas in Westron" he announced in a superior voice. Merry's face fell.

"Estelcyll" called a new voice.

"Gandalf!" snarled the prince "You promised not to tell anyone."

"I promised that I wouldn't tell the story behind it unless I was asked" corrected Gandalf.

"I'm asking" announced Pippin ignoring a pointed look from Legolas.

"What does it mean?"

"Hopebearer" translated Aragorn "even I have not heard that one, please Gandalf tell us."

"Perhaps another time when Legolas is looking less murderous" retorted the wizard. Aragorn looked disappointed, then he smiled.

"Finrod"

Frodo looked confused "Wasn't that the name of Galadriel's brother, the one that died for Beren?"

"Exactly, Frodo" returned the ranger "Nicknames are given for reasons. Finrod was golden-haired lord of the elves who was ready to give up his life for a mortal friend; does that not sound like someone you know?"

"If that is true" called the prince who was looking rather uncomfortable from all the attention. _After all _he thought _it was only by the grace of Iluvater and the Valar and of course trust in my friends that I managed it._

"Ask about the other "hero". What of Beren and his beloved Tinuviel, dear Estel?"

Aragorn looked horrified.

"This is a game that two can play" laughed the prince.

Alas, for the elf's peace of mind, he recovered quickly.

"It is even more appropriate now. Did not Finrod stand before the throne of Sauron and defy him to his face?" he asked laghingly.

That was apparently the last straw, for the prince rose and left singing about the love of a certain Evenstar for a mortal.

Gandalf and Aragorn exchanged grins. The hobbits and Gimli looked bewildered.

"You could let us in on the jokes" accused Merry.

"Please tell us the Estel-thingy story" begged Pippin.

"Very well" said Gandalf and began.

* * *

Well, for those you you who wanted a nice long chapter...here you go, I couldn't justify splitting it to simply drag things out for you. Ai, only the epilogue is left. :(

To Reviewers:

bella13446: Then I achieved precisely what I set out to do! This is a bit angsty...but it has a cherry ending.

Shojobaby: Thank you. Ummmm...no ninja elf this time... Just a surge of adrenaline.

bettsam0731: Yep...the scene where Legolas is dragged out is actually what started me off on this story. And here are some the nicknames...they were actually written about a month ago, so it is quite a coincidence that you asked.

Epilogue and end of _A Cruel Welcome_...coming soon. And then off to some new ideas...and of course finishing HOB.

Shire Rose


	12. Epilogue - The Stars Forever Dwell

Epilogue – The Stars Forever Dwell

Legolas passed out into the silent night still singing softly under his breath. The merry ballad that he and Bilbo had composed together long ago faded as his mood changed. The notes still rang out sweetly in the stillness but now they were laden with sorrow and the weight of immortal love.

_Undomiel, Undomiel last star of your people  
Go not hence with the shades of men  
For the sake of the Elfstone the shades I dare  
Never the shores of Valinor shall I see_

_For the love of the Evenstar on he rode  
Though the shadows of the Oathbreakers bared the way  
Her banner above him swung in the wind  
And the mists wreathed around the brow of the king_

_I too shall remain amid the passing of years  
Day and years amid the mortal ones  
For the love of the lady of the twilight sky  
And the love of the lord of the white tree _

_A slender maid in the dusk of the day  
Long ago she bade me farewell  
As I rode away to the deepening night  
Beneath the trees of the shadowed wood_

The notes drifted faintly in the wind even as the elf passed away from the camp. Gandalf's sharp ears caught them first and he paused in his recounting of some long ago adventure.

The tent fell silent as the rest picked up the gentle strain, listening intently in the darkness. Their faces fell as the heard the sorrow that laced the gentle words and the tale of the love that bound the elf to them yet.

"He will remain in Middle Earth until the end of our days" said Aragorn softly, "I had hoped that it might be so, and yet I would not keep him here sorrowing."

Gandalf smiled at him, "You at least should know that the moods of the Eldar are changeable, he will remain and have peace and joy for many years."

Frodo looked at him concerned, "Will he recover here? I saw a little of his time in the tower, surely some wounds can only be healed in Valinor."

Aragorn gave the hobbit a piercing glance "You saw him?"

Frodo blushed, "Twice, once as I stood tempted by the ring and once earlier before we reached the mountain." He turned to Gandalf a pleading look in his eyes, "Tell me, will he ever handle a bow again?" A look of pain lay within his clear eyes, "I saw them destroy and twist his body; how does one recover from such cruelty? I can see that even now he is not yet whole though he tries to hide it."

Aragorn and Gimli and Gandalf shared a look, their thoughts flashing back to the aftermath of the battle.

_Gandalf turned away from the elf to seek the hobbits who had saved them all. He was more than a little worried about the well-being of the prince but he knew that he was strong and would surely survive whatever Sauron had devised while the hobbits were trapped within the flaming inferno that had once been Mordor…_

_Aragorn looked around, his joy all-consuming and boundless. The great shadow was gone, his people were free and safe, no longer need he fear the death of all he held dear._

_Legolas!_

_A stab of self-condemnation pierced him as he searched for the form of his friend. How could he have forgotten, the elf had been gravely wounded. A glint of gold caught his eye and he saw the slight form collapsing, his borrowed sword falling to the ground as his hurts and utter exhaustion made themselves known._

_Beside him Gimli darted forward to aid their friend. The pained grey eyes opened as they came up and a smile lit the bleeding face shining still amid the desolation wrecked upon him before his abused body went limp. _

_They carried him back to a makeshift camp and laid the painfully wasted figure upon a soft bed beneath the sky that he loved. Then came the painful task of discovering and healing the wounds of nigh a fortnight at the mercy of Sauron. Elladan and Elrohir stood with him as they cut away what remained of his clothing. _

_It took them several long moments to control their horror and anger, for even the elven lords were aghast at the brutality that their friend had been submitted to, though they knew that they could have expected no less. _

_Legolas was not only a dear friend but had also been a teacher and mentor to all three, to see their shining example of strength and beauty thus trampled was heart-wrenching. The prince was covered in blood and grime, dark slashes across his chest and his back. Several of his ribs were at least damaged beneath the emaciated skin. _

_Whip lashes and burns covered and recovered the entire length of his long lean body. His wrists and ankles were abraded and swollen and his right shoulder dislocated, the heels of his feet burned and bleeding. But worst of all was the wreck of his right hand. _

_The twins set themselves to the horrible task of setting the shattered bones while Aragorn tended the rescued hobbits. _

_When at last the hand looked again like a hand, Gandalf had taken it in his firm grasp, assuring them that Legolas would shoot his beloved bow again._

_Throughout it all Gimli stood silent, to the side where he would not hinder their work, but always watching exuding a quiet strength and firmness. Simply there with his friend._

"He will recover" said Gimli fiercely, "he did not even bend under Sauron, he will not fail to heal. He cannot. He will shoot and sing and laugh with us. He is Legolas."

The wind shifted and so did the song, the aching sadness and inevitable loss vanished and in their place Legolas now sang of the joy and beauty, the passing of the shadow. The air swelled with the sound as he circled back towards the tents, joyous and young, free as the prince's heart and soul from stain of the darkness. Wild and beautiful, loving and loyal beyond belief.

_I Tele (The End)_

* * *

Well here I am at the end of all things, well no, just the end of this story. Thank you to everyone who reviewed and made it such a lovely ride.

Last notes: (Reviewer notes at the very end)

I have absolutely no pretensions to being accomplished at poetry or song-smithing...so forgive Legolas' song (at least it isn't _meant _to rhyme).

Also, before anyone asks Legolas is not _in_ love with Arwen, he just loves her and the rest.

The ending for _A Cruel Welcome_ will be up as soon as I write it, and I am continuing with HOB and FI as well as beginning a new story that intrigued me.

I have never tried a "trailer" to another story until now, it will be called The Faithful and deals with the last days of Numenor...also AU because a certain prince manages to get himself involved.

* * *

_Queen Inzilbêth looked anxiously behind her as she entered the courtyard of her uncle's palace. She could only hope that her husband had no news of her flight, for Ar-Gimilzôr was a hard man and there was now no love between them. _

_For a time perhaps he had been entranced by her beauty though she had wed him only out fear for her family, for she was of the faithful who yet honored the Valar and welcomed the Eldar among them. Even this slight hold upon him had long since passed, though her beauty had not yet faded. _

_It was their children that now caused the open rift between them. Their eldest, Inziladûn was like unto his mother, fair of face, courteous and kindly, more like unto Elros then many of his latest forefathers. The younger, Gimilkhâd, however, was the child of his father, handsome and prideful in appearance, he openly disdained the Valar and of elves he would speak nothing but evil._

_It was for the sake of her eldest that she now sought the wisdom of the Lord of Andúnië. The long years of seeing only the arrogance of his father and friends and their slurs of the Eldar were at last taking their toll upon her child's spirit. No longer did he seek out his mother for takes of the Eldar days and songs and lore of old. Now he sought the company of the rich and the proud, and her heart bled within her to see the innocence of her child tainted by the court._

_Gracefully, she dismounted and handed her horse over to the care of the waiting servant, keeping her veil bound about her face. From the outside the palace seemed void of light and sound, for clothe was drawn over the windows and no laughter or light-hearted chatter rang out as it had once. _

_Silently she slipped within, keeping to the shadows until she reached Eärendur's private chambers. She did not knock, but slipped within his study, blinking in the light._

_She looked up and her eyes widened with astonishment and horror. She, the queen of Númenor was staring into the face of her husband's greatest fears. _

_An elf sat in the light, it pooled gleaming on his golden hair and lit his fair face with a rosy glow. He stood and bowed._

_"Queen Inzilbêth" he said softly, his voice hushed and musical "Please have a seat while I seek out your uncle."_

* * *

To Reviewers:

bettsam0731: Thanks again. Since you asked...the above is my next pet project...

Guest: I think _I_ might have cried a little at some point...I just can't remember where...I think when I was writing chapter 9...Yes I wanted Frodo to have a go at breaking away...by seeing what the ring truly was at that last crucial moment.

bella13446: More to come...

Just A Reviewer: Hmmm...I hoped people would laugh...this one is a bit more intense...I hope you like it. I can't seem to write happy/funny without sadness or sadness/angst without some happiness.

XxDrenchedinSinxX: Not quite the ending...glad you liked it!

Pip The Dark Lord of All: What can I say? Thanks!

Shire Rose

Also I recently found one of the most amazing LOTR fics out there, sadly unfinished...its called The Song of Iluvatar and it's by Mia-philosphet. If you are looking for something heart-breakingly beautiful in its depth and passion...even unfinished it is worth reading. It's on my favorites list. (I don't have any connection with the author beyond falling in love with her story.)


End file.
